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LEL-CRPWNED^ 
(   ^.LETTERS 

rCHESTERFIELD 


THE  BEST  LETTERS 


OF 

LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

Letters  to  his  Son 

AND 

Letters  to  his  Godson 
By  PHILIP   DORMER   STANHOPE 

EARL     OF    CHESTERFIELD 

fEUttelJ  iuitij  an  EntroOuctton 
By   EDWARD   GILPIN   JOHNSON 


CHICAGO 
A.   C.   McCLURG   AND    COMPANY 

i«93 


Copyright 

By  a.  C.  McClurg  and  Co. 

A.  D.  1890 


8aia»f?y  SOT 
CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION 


Page 
9 


©fjEsterfielti's  ILetterg  to  fjiis  Son. 

Letter 

I.  G6od  Breeding  Relative  and  General 27 

II.  A  Genteel  Manner  Important 30 

III.  True  Praise.  —  Elementary  Politeness      ....  33 

IV.  Dancing.  —  All  Things  should  be  Done  Well      .     .  36 
V.  Elocution  :  Method  of  Demosthenes 27 

VI.  Inattention.  —  Knowledge  of  Mankind      ....  38 

VII.  Never  Attack  a  Corps  Collectively 41 

VIII.  On  Travelling  Intelligently 42 

IX.  True  Pleasure  Inconsistent  with  Vice 45 

X.  The  «  Absent  Man."  —  Thoughtfulness    ....  48 

XI.  A  Show7  Binding 50 

XII.  Epistolary  Models 52 

XIII.  Tolerance  and  Truth  Recommended 53 

XIV.  Caution  in  Forming  Friendships 55 

XV.  The  Art  of  Pleasing 59 

XVI.  On  Combining  Study  with  Pleasure 65 

XVII.  .\  Wise  Guide  the  Best  Friend 66 

XVIII.  The  Value  of  Time 68 

XIX.  Time  Well  and  Time  III  Spent '  70 

XX.  Right  Use  of  Learning 74 

XXI.  The  Graces.  —  Absurdity  of  Laughter 77 

XXII.  Dissimulation  found  not  only  in  Courts     ....  81 

XXIII.  An  Awkward  Man  at  Court 83 

XXIV.  The  Lazy  Mind  and  the  Frivolous  Mind  ....  85 
XXV.  How  History  should  be  read 89 

XXVI.  General  Character  of  Women 90 

XXVII.  Our  Tendency  to  exalt  the  Past  ...          ...  94 

XXVIII.  Against  Refinements  of  Casuistry 96 


2051872 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Letter  Page 

XX  rx.  True  Good  Company  Defined 98 

XXX.  Conduct  in  Good  Company 102 

XXXI.  Rules  for  Conduct  in  Good  Company      ....  109 

XXXII.  Importance  of  tlie  Graces,  etc 115 

XXXIII.  The  Importance  of  Dress 120 

XXXI  V^  On  Prejudices.  —  Liberty  of  the  Press    ....  123 

XXXV.  Dignity  of  Manners  Recommended 129 

XXXVI.  Court  Manners  and  Methods 131 

XXXVII.  On  Awkwardness  and  Absence  of  Mind  .     .     .     .  133 

XXXVIII.  Vulgarisms. — An  Awkward  Man,  etc 139 

XXXIX.  Three  Sorts  of  Good  Breeding 143 

XL.  The  same  Subject  continued 150 

XLI.  Good  Breeding  Important  in  Diplomacy      .     .     .  154 

XLII.  Great  Events  from  Trivial  Causes 161 

XLIII.  "  The  Tongue  to  Persuade  " 166 

XLIV.  Man's  Inconsistency 16S 

XLV.  On  the  Leniores  Virtutes 174 

XLVI.  The  Writer's  Novitiate 176 

XLVII.  To  acquire  the  Graces,  etc iSo 

XLVIII.  Importance  of  the  Moral  Virtues .184 

XLIX.  How  to  Read  History,  etc 187 

L.  Good  Manners  the  Source  of  Esteem 191 

LI.  Suaviter  hi  Modo,  Fortiter  in  re 193 

LII.  Les  Bienseances 199 

LIII.  The  Graces 204 

LIV.  English  and  French  Plays  Compared      ....  208 

LV.  Utility  of  aiming  at  Perfection 211 

LVI.  The  Study  of  the  World      ........  215 

LVII.  How  History  should  be  Written 219 

LVI  II.  Avoir  du  Monde  Ex-plained 221 

LIX.  On  Military  Men.  —  Small  Change 224 

LX.  Adaptation  of  Manners,  etc 226 

LXI.  Voltaire,  Homer,  Virgil.  Milton,  and  Tasso      .     .  230 

LXII.  A  Worthy,  Tiresome  Man 234 


Cljesterfieltj's  ILetterg  to  fjis  Fabian. 


I.  Diversion  Ordered,  Study  Requested,  etc.     ...  243 

II.  Duty  to  God,  and  Duty  to  Man 244 

III.  Rough  Manners 246 

IV.  The  Well  Bred  Gentleman 247 


CONTENTS. 


VU 


Letter  Page 

V.  Some  Rules  for  Behavior 248 

VI.  The  Art  of  Pleasing 250 

VII.  Flat  Contradiction  a  Proof  of  111  Breeding    ...  251 

VIII.  Do  unto  Others  as  You  Would  they  Should  do  unto 

You 253 

IX.  On  Self-Command 255 

X.  True  Wit  and  its  Judicious  Use 25S 

XI.  Raillery,  Mimicry,  Wags,  and  Witlings    ....  261 

XIL  The  Coxcomb.  —  The  Timid  Man 263 

XIII.  The  Man  of  Spirit 266 

XIV.  Vanity. — Feigned  Self-Condemnation      .     ...  268 
XV.  Attention,  —r  The  Sense  of  Propriety 270 

XVI.  Affectations.  —  Polite  Conversation 274 

XVII.  Epitaph  on  a  Wife 277 

XVIII.  Every  Man  the  Architect  of  his  own  Fortune     .     .  27S 

XIX.  Inattention.  —  Hoc  Age 279 

XX.  The  Pride  of  Rank  and  Birth 281 

XXI.  Shining  Thoughts  of  Authors 283 

XXII.  Avarice  and  Ambition 284 

XXIII.  The  Endeavor  to  Attain  Perfection 286 

XXIV.  The  Treatment  of  Inferiors 287 

XXV.  The  False  Pride  of  Rank 289 

XXVI.  The  Veracity  of  a  Gentleman 291 

XXVII.  On  the  "Je  ne  Sais  Quoi 293 

XXVIII.  The  Indecent  Ostentation  of  Vices 295 

XXIX.  The  Art  of  Letter-Writing 296 

XXX.  Treatment  of  Servants 298 

XXXI.  Pride  of  Rank  and  Birth 299 

XXXII.  The  Snares  of  Youth 301 


Id  applying  himself  to  the  iormation  of  his  son  as  a  poliU 
man  in  society,  Lord  Chesterfield  has  not  given  us  a  treatise 
on  duty  as  Cicero  has ;  but  he  has  left  letters  which,  by  their 
mixture  of  justness  and  lightness,  by  certain  lightsome  airs 
which  insensibly  mingle  with  the  serious  graces,  preserve  the 
medium  between  the  Mimoires  du  Chevalier  de  Grammont 
and   Tilimaque. 

SAINTE-BEtrVK. 


Viewed  as  compositions,  they  appear  almost  unrivalled  for  a 
serious  epistolary  style. 

Lord  Mahon. 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  summarizing  the  character  of  Phihp  Dormer 
Stanhope,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  Lecky  the  historian 
describes  him  as  a  man  of  "  delicate  but  fastidious 
taste,"  "low  moral  principle,"  and  "  hard,  keen,  and 
worldly  wisdom  ;  "  and  this  estimate,  with  an  undue 
stress  upon  "  low  moral  principle,"  fairly  expresses 
the  conventional  idea  of  the  brilliant  eighteenth  cen- 
tury statesman  and  wit.  It  may  be  said  of  Lord 
Chesterfield  —  and  it  is  a  rather  uncommon  thing  to 
say  of  one  of  his  countrymen  —  that  his  reputation 
has  suffered  more  from  his  preaching  than  from  his 
practice.  Weighed  fairly  in  the  balance  with  his 
contemporaries  and  co-equals,  he  loses  in  great 
measure  the  invidious  distinction  usually  bestowed 
upon  him  ;  and  those  conversant  with  his  philosophy 
will  readily  conjecture  that  had  he  intended  his 
preaching  for  the  morally-sensitive  ear  of  the  British 
public,  he  would  have  more  carefully  observed  his 
own  organic  maxim,  —  "  Le  Grand  Art,  et  le  plus 
necessaire  de  tous,  c'est  L  'Art  de  Plaire." 

Lord  Chesterfield's  letters  to  his  son  were  written 
in  the  closest  confidence,  with  no  thought  to  their 


lO  INTRODUCTION. 

future  publication.  After  the  death  of  both  writer 
and  recipient,  they  were  pubUshed  by  Mrs.  Eugenia 
Stanhope,  the  son's  widow,  as  a  speculative  venture, 
—  a  profitable  one,  as  it  proved,  the  public  being  as 
ready  to  purchase  as  to  condemn ;  and  the  annals 
of  literature  record  few  more  curious  turns  of  fortune 
than  that  which  has  ranked  this  arch-diplomat  and 
consummate  master  of  the  art  of  self- repression  in 
the  category  of  men  who  have  frankly  confessed 
themselves  to  the  world.  Parental  affection  im- 
pelled him  to  discover  to  his  son  the  springs  of  ac- 
tion that  had  governed  his  conduct  and  promoted 
his  success  in  life  ;  and  the  chance  that  led  to  his 
enduring  literary  fame  has  also  installed  him  (with 
some  injustice)  as  high  priest  and  exemplar  of  fash- 
ionable vice  and  insincerity.  To  the  same  chance 
we  owe  our  possession  of  a  volume  remarkable  alike 
for  its  diction,  wit,  variety  of  argument  and  illustra- 
tion, and  keen  insight  into  the  worldly  motives  of 
worldly  people.  There  are  serious  defects  in  Lord 
Chesterfield's  theory  of  life  and  savoir  vivre ;  but 
these  eliminated,  his  system  has  an  important  advan- 
tage over  many  loftier  ones  in  that  it  is  the  fruit  of 
experience,  and  humanly  practicable.  Despite  the 
overstrained  censure  of  prejudice  and  cant,  the  letters 
have  maintained  their  high  rank  in  literature ;  and 
we  may  justly  assume  that  their  imperfections  are 
greatly  outweighed  by  their  merits.  It  will  be  re- 
membered that  Dr.  Johnson  —  in  a  lucid  interval  of 
fair-mindedness  —  once    said  of  them,   "Take  out 


INTRODUCTION.  1 1 

the  immorality,  and  they  should  be  put  in  the  hands 
of  every  young  gentleman  ;  "  and  it  is  in  accordance 
with  this  view  of  the  "  Great  Cham  of  Literature  " 
that  the  selections  for  the  present  volume  have  been 
made.  The  better  to  illustrate  the  writer's  admirable 
epistolary  style,  the  letters  chosen  are  given  for  the 
most  part  entire ;  although  at  the  risk  of  a  leaning 
toward  purism,  we  have  ventured  here  and  there  to  ex- 
punge expressions  offensive  to  the  delicacy  of  mod- 
ern taste.  In  addition  to  the  letters  to  his  son,  a  few 
of  the  but  lately  published  letters  to  his  godson  — 
written  with  a  like  purpose  and  from  a  like  stand- 
point—  are  given.  A  hasty  glance  at  the  period 
in  which  the  letters  were  written  may  serve  in  a 
measure  to  justify  and  explain  their  general  trend 
and  temper. 

Freed  from  the  pleasant  glamor  of  its  literarj- 
associations,  English  society  in  Lord  Chesterfield's 
time  —  which  we  may  consider  as  embracing  the 
reign  of  Anne  and  those  of  the  first  two  Georges  — 
presents  a  repellent  aspect.  To  the  lover  of  the 
Augustan  Age  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  when  Steele 
and  Addison  were  chatting  so  charmingly  in  the 
"Tatler"  and  "Spectator,"  when  Goldsmith  was 
writing  "  like  an  angel  "  and  the  amiable  Sir  Joshua 
was  behaving  Hke  one,  when  Pope,  Swift,  Fielding, 
Richardson,  and  their  compeers,  were  on  the  stage, 
England  was  a  sink  of  corruption  in  high  places,  of 
brutality  in  low.  The  political  condition  of  the 
country  for  the  first  half-century  after  the  revolution 


1 2  INTROD  UCTION. 

of  1688  was  singularly  provocative  of  venality  among 
public  men.  A  disputed  succession,  a  Pretender  to 
the  throne  whose  title  was  supported  by  a  corrupt 
party  at  home  and  by  a  profusely  liberal  monarch 
abroad,  an  opposing  faction  eager  to  outbid  their 
opponents,  gave  rise  to  a  complication  of  intrigue, 
a  hardihood  of  political  double  and  triple  dealing, 
that  caused  Montesquieu  to  say  in  1729  :  "  English- 
men are  no  longer  worthy  of  their  liberty.  They 
sell  it  to  the  King ;  and  if  the  King  should  sell 
it  back  to  them,  they  would  sell  it  to  him  again." 
History  has  recorded,  and  satire  and  invective  have 
rendered  more  odious,  the  faults  of  the  leaders  of 
the  day.  Marlborough,  whose  consummate  genius 
broke  the  French  prestige  with  an  army  composed 
of  half-hearted  allies  and  a  Bardolphian  home-con- 
tingent recruited  largely  by  the  parish  constables,  is 
stigmatized  as  "  one  of  the  basest  rogues  in  history, 
supported  by  his  mistresses,  a  niggard  user  of  the  pay 
he  received  from  them,  systematically  plundering  his 
soldiers,  trafficking  on  political  secrets,  a  traitor  to 
James  II.,  to  William,  to  England."  Vieing  in  base- 
ness with  the  conqueror  of  Blenheim  are  Bohng- 
broke,  the  cold-blooded  cynic  who  served  and  sold 
in  turn  both  Queen  and  Pretender ;  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle,  member  of  the  cabinet  and  premier,  a 
"  living,  moving,  talking  caricature  "  "  whose  name 
was  perfidy ;  "  the  Earl  of  Mar,  the  Scotch  Secretary 
of  State  whose  exceptional  rapidity  of  political 
change   won  for  him   the  sobriquet  of   "  Bobbing 


INTRODUCTION.  1 3 

John ;  "  the  profligate  Wharton ;  Lord  Hervey,  the 
"  Sporus  "  of  Pope's  maUgnant  lines  :  — 

"  Whether  in  florid  impotence  he  speaks, 
Or  as  the  prompter  breathes  the  puppet  squeaks  ; 
Or,  at  the  ear  of  Eve,  familiar  toad, 
Half  froth,  half  venom,  spits  himself  abroad, 
In  pmis  or  politics,  or  tales  or  lies." 

The  shameful  list  swells  at  once  beyond  the 
possibility  of  individual  mention  by  the  addition  of 
VValpole's  packed  House  of  Commons,  where  *'  every 
man  had  his  price,"  and  in  which,  Montesquieu 
said,  "  There  are  Scotch  members  who  have  only 
two  hundred  pounds  for  their  vote,  and  who  sell  it 
for  this  price."  England  would  not  be  England  had 
there  not  been  exceptions  to  the  general  rule  of 
double-dealing  and  venality;  and  one  of  these  ex- 
ceptions it  is  important  for  us  to  note  here.  It  is 
honorably  recorded  of  Lord  Chesterfield  that  he 
"  hated  a  job."  Of  this  rather  untimely  trait  his 
Lordship  gave  signal  proof  during  his  viceroyalty  in 
Ireland ;  and  his  biographer,  Dr.  Maty,  relates  a 
pleasing  instance  of  it  that  occurred  early  in  his 
public  life.  Having  succeeded  Lord  Townshend  as 
Captain  of  the  Yeomen  of  the  Guards  in  1723,  Lord 
Chesterfield  was  advised  by  his  predecessor  to  make 
the  post  more  profitable  than  he  himself  had  done 
by  disposing  of  the  places.  "  I  rather  for  this 
time,"  was  the  reply,  "  wish  to  follow  your  lord- 
ship's example  than  your  advice." 

Of  the  private  manners  of  the  period,  the  pre- 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

cise  pencil  of  Hogarth  and  the  proUfic  pens  of  a 
throng  of  satirists  in  prose  and  verse  have  left  us 
the  amplest  memorials.  If  venality  was  the  charac- 
teristic of  the  leaders,  brutality  seeiTis  to  have  been 
that  of  the  populace ;  and  in  the  turbulent  and 
fickle  mob  the  factious  partisan  found  an  instrument 
of  mischief  ready  to  his  hand.  When  the  puppet 
Sacheverell  sounded  the  "  drum  ecclesiastic  "  from 
the  pulpit  of  St.  Paul's,  the  London  rabble,  chim- 
ney-sweepers, watermen,  costermongers,  thieves,  flew 
to  the  rescue  of  the  Established  Church.  Inflamed 
with  gin  and  religious  zeal,  they  swept  through  the 
precincts  where  seven  years  before  — 

"  Earless  on  high  stood  unabashed  Defoe," 

mobbed  Defoe's  fellow  sectaries,  and  burned  their 
meeting-houses,  —  at  the  beck  of  a  faction  who 
meant  to  enslave  them.  Vice  wore  in  England  so 
odious  an  aspect  that  one  scarcely  wonders  when 
Lord  Chesterfield  bids  his  son  shun  the  bestialities 
of  his  countrymen  and  adopt  rather  the  genteel 
"  gallantries  "  of  the  continent.  Turn  to  Hogarth's 
"  Gin  Lane ; "  England's  besetting  sin  is  set  forth 
there  with  all  its  shocking  details.  Gin  was  intro- 
duced in  1684;  and  half  a  century  later,  according 
to  Lord  Lonsdale's  report,  "  England  consumed 
seven  millions  of  gallons."  So  cheap  was  the  bev- 
erage that  one  could  get  comfortably  tipsy  for  a 
penny,  and  dead  drunk  —  "  o'er  all  the  ills  of  life 
victorious"  —  for  twopence.     But  the  ugliness,  the 


INTRO  D  UC  TION.  1 5 

unvarnished  brutality  of  vice  was  not  confined  to 
the  pleasures  of  the  rabble.  The  amusements  of 
the  costermonger,  so  far  as  his  money  went,  were  the 
amusements  of  the  lord.  In  the  public  resorts  filth 
jostled  finery;  the  blind  nobleman  in  Hogarth's 
"■  Cockpit  "  bets  his  money  freely  with  the  ruffians 
about  him,  while  the  deft  thief  at  his  elbow  slips  a 
bank-note  from  his  lordship's  stake ;  at  the  bear- 
garden —  as  the  "  Spectator  "  tells  us  —  peer  and 
blackguard  alike  applauded  when  "Timothy  Buck 
of  Clare  Market  "  so  slashed  with  his  broadsword 
his  opponent  "  Sergeant  Miller,  late  come  from 
Portugal,"  that  the  latter  fell  disabled,  and  "his 
wound  was  exposed  to  the  view  of  all  who  could 
delight  in  it,  and  sewed  up  on  the  stage."  In  the 
genteel  revels  of  Hogarth's  "  Midnight  Conversa- 
tion "  one  sees  the  debauchery  of  "Gin  Lane" 
minus  the  insignia  of  poverty  ;  the  company  is  bet- 
ter, the  liquor  is  better,  and  the  rags  and  tatters  are 
replaced  by  bands  and  cassocks,  lace  and  ruffles, 
cocked  hats  and  full-bottomed  wigs ;  but  the  essen- 
tials are  the  same,  and  the  gentlemen  —  from  the 
divine  who  presides  at  the  punch-bowl  to  the  officer 
who  sprawls  on  the  floor  —  exhibit  every  stage  of  the 
national  vice.  England  in  the  eighteenth  century 
was  not,  as  Lord  Chesterfield  said,  "  the  home  of 
The  Graces." 

That  polite  society  at  this  period  was  lax  in  its 
morals,  that  "  a  mistress  was  as  well  recognized  as  a 
concubine  in  the  days  of  King  David,"  is  scarcely 


1 6  INTRODUCTION. 

to  be  wondered  at  when  we  consider  the  precedent 
of  royalty.  The  domestic  annals  of  the  royal  con- 
temners of  "boetry  and  bainting,"  George  I.  and 
George  II.,  read  very  much  like  those  of  Macheath 
and  his  gang.  There  was  no  concealment  in  these 
delicate  matters  at  that  time ;  the  facts  were  as 
plain  as  noonday,  and  it  was  thought  no  scandal 
that  an  officer  should  owe  his  rank,  or  a  prelate  his 
lawn,  to  the  good  offices  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendal 
or  of  Madam  Walmoden.  Certainly  there  is  little 
to  be  said  in  extenuation  of  the  immorality  of  a 
class  that  can  enjoy,  laugh  at,  and  applaud  a  bitterly 
truthful  satire  on  its  own  vices.  In  his  "  Beggar's 
Opera  "  Gay  exhibited  to  polite  society  the  reflec- 
tion of  its  own  detestable  manners  mirrored  in  the 
annals  of  a  band  of  thieves  and  prostitutes  ;  and 
polite  society,  instead  of  slitting  the  ears  of  the 
author,  made  much  of  him,  and  rapturously  ad- 
mitted the  fidelity  of  the  portrait. 

Such,  broadly  speaking,  were  the  social  externals 
in  England  when  Lord  Chesterfield  lived  ;  and  it  is 
by  the  temper  of  his  time  and  country  that  he  is  to 
be  judged.  Few  men  will  bear  comparison  with  the 
standards  of  an  age  more  advanced  than  their  own. 
The  defects  of  Chesterfield  —  as  Lord  Mahon  says 
—  were  "neither  slight  nor  few."  He  was  addicted 
to  gaming ;  he  carried  flattery  and  dissimulation 
beyond  justifiable  bounds ;  and  neither  his  life  nor 
his  precept  was  free  from  the  taint  of  the  prevail- 
ing immorality.     Much  of  the  common  estimate  of 


INTRODUCTIOl^.  1/ 

Lord  Chesterfield  has  been  founded  on  Dr.  John- 
son's opinion,  —  and  Dr.  Johnson's  opinion  where 
his  prejudices  were  engaged  was  usually  worthless. 
The  story  of  his  quarrel  with  the  Earl  is  well  known, 
and  the  facts  lie  in  a  nutshell.  On  the  one  hand 
was  Lord  Chesterfield,  a  leader  in  society,  literature, 
and  politics,  a  man  whose  name  was  a  synonym  for 
good  breeding,  and  in  whose  eyes  the  graces  and 
amenities  of  life  were  of  paramount  importance; 
on  the  other  was  Dr.  Johnson,  a  phenomenon  of 
learning  and  intellectual  force,  but  also,  unhappily, 
a  phenomenon  of  slovenliness,  ill  breeding,  and 
personal  repulsiveness.  Assuming  human  nature  to 
have  been,  in  the  main,  what  it  is  to-day,  we  can 
scarcely  blame  Lord  Chesterfield  for  declining  the 
intimacy  of  one  who  must  have  been  peculiarly  re- 
pugnant to  him.  Much  solemn  nonsense  in  the  way 
of  moral  dissertation  has  grown  out  of  the  story  that 
he  once  kept  Johnson  waiting  in  an  antechamber 
—  Lord  Lyttleton  places  the  time  at  ten  minutes  — 
while  he  chatted  with  so  frivolous  a  person  as  Colley 
Cibber.  There  is  little  doubt  that  the  Earl  found 
Cibber's  lively  prattle  more  entertaining  than  the 
ponderous  "  Sirs  !  "  of  the  Doctor ;  and  we  may  be- 
lieve that  so  fastidious  a  nobleman  objected  to  being 
knocked  down  with  the  butt  of  Johnson's  conversa- 
tional pistol,  —  which  was  Goldsmith's  figurative  way 
of  saying  that  when  the  Doctor  was  fairly  worsted 
in  an  argument  he  silenced  his  opponent  with  a 
roar  of  abuse  or  a  staggering  sophistry.     Is  it  not 

2 


1 8  INTROD  UCTION. 

curious  that  posterity  has  been  so  unwilling  to  con- 
done Lord  Chesterfield's  shadowy  discourtesy  to- 
ward one  whose  habitual  bearishness  toward  all  was 
proverbial  ? 

It  is  not  my  intention  here  to  go  into  the  details 
of  Lord  Chesterfield's  career.  It  may  be  well,  how- 
ever, to  recapitulate  the  leading  facts  before  turning 
to  a  brief  consideration  of  his  letters.  He  was  bom 
in  London  on  Sept.  22,  1694,  and  in  1712  he 
entered  Trinity  Hall,  Cambridge.  After  two  years 
of  close  application  at  Cambridge,  he  visited  the 
Hague,  where  he  served  his  novitiate  in  polite 
society,  frequenting  the  best  companies  and  adding 
to  his  solid  attainments  those  lighter  arts  in  which 
he  afterwards  excelled,  and  by  means  of  which  he 
declared  that  he  sought  to  make  "  every  woman 
love  and  every  man  admire"  him.  In  1715,  upon 
the  accession  of  George  I.,  he  became  Gentleman 
of  the  Bed  Chamber  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and 
shortly  after  entered  the  House  of  Commons.  In 
1726  he  was  called  to  the  House  of  Peers  by  the 
death  of  his  father.  Oratory  had  been  his  chief 
study,  and  here  he  found  himself  in  a  theatre  suited 
to  the  refined  and  studied  eloquence  in  which  he 
easily  surpassed  his  compeers.  The  grace  of  man- 
ner, refined  wit,  and  facility  in  classical  allusion, 
which  failed  to  touch  the  more  popular  assembly, 
were  here  relished  and  applauded.  Horace  Wal- 
pole,  who  had  heard  the  first  orators  of  his  day,  de- 
clared that  the  finest  speech  he  had  ever  listened  to 


INTRODUCTION.  1 9 

was  one  from  Chesterfield.  In  1727  he  was  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Holland  ;  and  it  was  during  his  stay 
at  the  Hague  that  he  met  the  lady,  Madam  de  Bou- 
chet,  who  became,  in  1732,  the  mother  of  his  son, 
to  whom  the  most  of  the  letters  in  this  volume 
are  addressed.  In  1733  he  married  Melusina  de 
Schulemberg,  niece  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  —  or 
as  some  said,  her  daughter  by  George  I.  In  1 744 
he  was  again  sent  as  envoy  to  the  Hague,  and  in 
the  following  year  he  entered  on  his  memorable 
Lord  Lieutenancy  in  Ireland.  Although  Lord  Ches- 
terfield's public  engagements  were  uniformly  fulfilled 
with  credit  to  himself  and  with  satisfaction  to  his 
countrymen,  his  term  in  Ireland  was  undoubtedly 
the  most  brilliant  and  useful  part  of  his  career.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  at  no  time  in  the  history 
of  that  hapless  country  has  English  rule  been  so 
well  administered.  To  please  or  even  to  content 
the  Irish  people  is  for  the  English  representative  a 
task  that  dwarfs  the  labors  of  Hercules ;  yet  we 
learn  that  at  the  close  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  admin- 
istration "  persons  of  all  ranks  and  religions  followed 
him  to  the  water's  edge,  praising  and  blessing  him, 
and  entreating  him  to  return."  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  when  Lord  Chesterfield  went  to  Dublin 
in  1 745  he  was  confronted  with  unusual  difficulties. 
Politically,  the  period  was  one  of  transition ;  time 
had  not  yet  ratified  the  title  of  a  dynasty  toward 
which  the  Irish  were  generally  disaffected,  and  the 
adherents  of  a  claimant  whom  they  generally  favored 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

were  up  in  arms  in  the  neighboring  island.  Though 
eminently  satisfactory  to  both  factions,  Lord  Ches- 
terfield's policy  in  Ireland  was  one  of  most  unwaver- 
ing firmness,  and  was  not  without  severity  when 
called  for.  It  is  related  that  he  said  to  a  supposed 
agent  of  the  Pretender :  "  Sir,  I  do  not  wish  to  in- 
quire whether  you  have  any  particular  employment 
in  this  kingdom,  but  I  know  you  have  great  influ- 
ence among  those  of  your  persuasion.  I  have  sent 
for  you  to  exhort  them  to  be  peaceable  and  quiet. 
If  they  behave  like  faithful  subjects  they  shall  be 
treated  as  such,  but  if  they  act  in  a  different  man- 
ner, I  will  be  worse  to  them  than  Cromwell."  In 
1 746  Lord  Chesterfield  became  Secretary  of  State, 
resigning  in  1748.  He  had  long  been  troubled 
with  deafness,  and  in  1755,  his  infirmity  becoming 
so  serious  as  to  incapacitate  him  from  taking  part  in 
public  affairs,  he  determined  to  go  into  retirement. 
His  death  occurred  on  March  24,  1773,  five  years 
after  that  of  the  son  upon  whom  he  had  bestowed 
such  a  wealth  of  care  and  affection. 

Lord  Chesterfield's  letters  to  his  son  have  been 
strongly  reprehended  on  three  distinct  grounds : 
first,  because  their  teachings  are  sometimes  immoral ; 
secondly,  because  of  the  seemingly  undue  stress 
placed  upon  good  breeding  and  the  graces ;  and 
thirdly,  because  the  maxims,  even  when  good  in 
themselves,  seldom  rest  on  higher  grounds  than 
expediency  or  personal  advantage. 

Lord  Chesterfield's  most  determined   panegyrist 


IN  TROD  UC  TION.  2 1 

will  scarcely  deny  that  some  of  his  precepts  are,  in 
themselves,  inexcusably  bad.  But  where  is  the  source, 
the  well-spring,  of  these  precepts?  Not,  I  think,  in 
the  heart  of  the  writer.  "  Let  us  first  "  —  as  John- 
son once  said  to  Boswell  — "  clear  our  minds  of 
cant,"  and  then  consider  that  it  was  not  his  son's 
prospects  in  the  next  world  but  his  welfare  in  this 
that  the  anxious  father  deemed  himself  qualified  to 
advance  ;  and  of  his  intimate  and  curious  knowledge 
of  the  ways  of  this  world  there  is  no  doubt.  Lord 
Chesterfield  would  scarcely  have  presented  the 
"  Letters  "  to  the  world  as  embodying  a  system  of 
absolute  ethics.  Long  years  of  acute  watching  and 
deliberate  weighing  of  the  preferences  and  foibles  of 
his  fellows  convinced  him  that  to  appear  well  in 
their  eyes,  —  or,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  to  make 
people  in  general  wish  him  well,  and  inclined  to 
serve  him  in  anything  not  inconsistent  with  their 
own  interests,"  —  he  must  act  in  such  and  such  a 
way ;  and  in  that  he  unshrinkingly  put  certain  pitiful 
results  of  his  experience  of  men  and  women  into 
the  form  of  advice  to  his  son,  lies  the  essence  of  his 
fault.  We  are  not,  however,  to  hold  the  observer 
responsible  for  the  phenomena  from  which  he  drew 
his  conclusions. 

As  to  the  second  objection  to  the  letters,  the 
answer  must  be  obvious  to  all  who  consider  for  a 
moment  their  nature  and  the  purpose  with  which 
they  were  composed.  They  were  written,  not  for 
the  public,  but  for  the  instruction  of  an  individual ; 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

and  naturally  stress  is  laid  upon  those  qualities  and 
acquirements  in  which  that  individual  was  deficient. 
Mr.  Stanhope  was  naturally  studious,  hence  we  find 
comparatively  little  insistence  upon  the  more  solid 
attainments ;  Mr.  Stanhope  was  inclined  to  be  moral, 
hence  his  father  did  not  insult  him  by  constantly 
referring  to  the  Decalogue ;  but  Mr.  Stanhope  was 
naturally  somewhat  distrait  and  awkward,  hence 
Lord  Chesterfield  wrote,  "  For  God's  sake,  there- 
fore, think  of  nothing  but  shining  and  even  dis- 
tinguishing yourself  in  the  most  polite  courts  by 
your  air,  your  address,  your  manners,  your  politeness, 
your  douceuj',  your  graces." 

There  are  very  few  of  us,  I  think,  who  will  venture 
to  quarrel  with  Lord  Chesterfield  on  the  grounds 
stated  in  the  third  objection,  if  we  steadily  bear  in 
mind  Dr.  Johnson's  excellent  advice  on  the  subject 
of  cant. 

Before  closing  this  hasty  sketch  a  word  should  be 
added  regarding  the  series  of  letters  which  form  the 
concluding  portion  of  the  present  volume,  and  of 
the  person  to  whom  they  were  addressed.  With  a 
few  exceptions,  it  is  only  within  the  current  year 
that  Lord  Chesterfield's  letters  to  his  godson  have 
been  given  to  the  public  ;  and  we  have  gladly  availed 
ourselves  of  the  opportunity  of  adding  to  our  col- 
lection an  element  of  such  freshness  and  interest. 
The  literary  value  of  these  later  letters  will  be  taken 
for  granted.  The  qualities  that  secured  for  Lord 
Chesterfield's  letters  to  his  son  their  high  rank  in 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

epistolary  literature  are  not  of  course  wanting  in 
those  to  his  godson,  written  with  a  like  general  pur- 
pose. There  is  however  a  perceptible  difference 
between  the  two  sets,  owing  in  part  to  the  advanced 
years  of  the  writer,  in  part  to  the  extreme  youth 
of  the  recipient.  To  many  readers  the  flagging 
of  the  old  intellectual  fire  and  acuteness  noticeable 
in  the  letters  to  the  godson  will  be  compensated  by 
their  kindlier,  more  liberal,  and  less  worldly  tone. 
In  both  series  will  be  found  the  same  frequent  in- 
sistence upon  the  importance  of  manners  and  the 
graces,  and  this  is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  son 
and  godson  were  strikingly  alike  in  general  character 
and  disposition ;  both  were  studiously  inclined  and 
of  good  habits,  and  both  were  shy  of  those  divini- 
ties to  whose  altar  their  Mentor  so  constantly  urged 
them.  PhiUp  Stanhope,  the  godson,  was  the  son  of 
Arthur  Charles  Stanhope  of  Mansfield,  a  somewhat 
distant  relative  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  and  was  adopted 
by  him,  upon  his  son's  death,  as  heir  to  his  rank, 
fortune,  and  affections.  Like  the  son,  the  godson 
failed  to  fulfil  the  brilliant  hopes  formed  of  him ; 
and  instead  of  the  shining  diplomat,  statesman, 
and  courtier,  he  seems  to  have  turned  out  the  hum- 
drum, quite  commonplace  country  gentleman,  —  a 
respectable  man  but  by  no  means  a  votary  of  the 
Graces.  Madame  d'Arblay  wrote  of  him  :  "  How 
would  that  quintessence  of  high  ton,  the  late  Lord 
Chesterfield,  blush  to  behold  his  successor,  who 
with  much  share  of  humor  and  of  good  humor  also. 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

has  as  little  good  breeding  as  any  man  I  ever  met 
with." 

As  before  intimated,  it  is  the  aim  of  the  projectors 
of  this  volume  to  show  Lord  Chesterfield  at  his  best ; 
to  select  from  the  mass  of  his  letters  those  that  are 
in  themselves  the  most  valuable,  —  a  process  which 
has  obliged  us  occasionally  to  reject  letters  and  ex- 
punge passages  which  the  writer's  detractors  would 
perhaps  deem  specially  characteristic  of  him.  We 
have,  however,  we  believe,  prepared  a  volume  that 
will  prove  not  only  useful  and  readable,  but  morally 
unobjectionable ;  and  if  our  general  aim  has  been 
attained,  there  are  few  readers  who  will  not  feel  re- 
paid for  the  perusal  of  the  following  pages. 

E.   G.  J. 


LETTERS    OF    LORD    CHESTERFIELD 
TO    HIS    SON. 


LETTERS  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 
TO  HIS  SON. 


GOOD   BREEDING  RELATIVE  AND  GENERAL.— 
MAUVAISE  HONTE. 

Wednesday^ 
Dear  Boy,  —  You  behaved  yourself  so  well  at  Mr. 
Boden's  last  Sunday  that  you  justly  deserve  com- 
mendation ;  besides,  you  encourage  me  to  give  you 
some  rules  of  politeness  and  good  breeding,  being 
persuaded  that  you  will  observe  them.  Know  then 
that  as  learning,  honor,  and  virtue  are  absolutely 
necessary  to  gain  you  the  esteem  and  admiration  of 
mankind,  politeness  and  good  breeding  are  equally 
necessary  to  make  you  welcome  and  agreeable  in 
conversation  and  common  life.  Great  talents,  such 
as  honor,  virtue,  learning,  and  parts,  are  above  the 
generality  of  the  world,  who  neither  possess  them 
themselves  nor  judge  of  them  rightly  in  others ;  but 

^  At  the  time  this  was  written,  Master  Stanhope  was 
in  his  ninth  year.  The  letter  following  was  written  a  few 
months  later. 


28       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

all  people  are  judges  of  the  lesser  talents,  such  as 
civility,  affability,  and  an  obliging,  agreeable  address 
and  manner,  because  they  feel  the  good  effects  of 
them  as  making  society  easy  and  pleasing.  Good 
sense  must  in  many  cases  determine  good  breeding ; 
because  the  same  thing  that  would  be  civil  at  one 
time,  and  to  one  person,  may  be  quite  otherwise  at 
another  time,  and  to  another  person ;  but  there  are 
some  general  rules  of  good  breeding  that  hold  al- 
ways true,  and  in  all  cases.  As,  for  example,  it  is 
always  extremely  rude  to  answer  only  Yes,  or  No, 
to  anybody,  without  adding  Sir,  My  Lord,  or  Madam, 
according  to  the  quality  of  the  person  you  speak 
to,  —  as  in  French  you  must  always  say.  Monsieur, 
Milord,  Madame,  and  Mademoiselle.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  every  married  woman  is  in  French  Ma- 
dame, and  every  unmarried  one  is  Mademoiselle. 
It  is  likewise  extremely  rude  not  to  give  the  proper 
attention  and  a  civil  answer  when  people  speak  to 
you,  or  to  go  away,  or  be  doing  something  else, 
when  they  are  speaking  to  you ;  for  that  convinces 
them  that  you  despise  them,  and  do  not  think  it 
worth  your  while  to  hear  or  answer  what  they  say. 
I  dare  say  I  need  not  tell  you  how  rude  it  is  to 
take  the  best  place  in  a  room,  or  to  seize  immediately 
upon  what  you  like  at  table,  without  offering  first  to 
help  others,  —  as  if  you  considered  nobody  but  your- 
self. On  the  contrary,  you  should  always  endeavor 
to  procure  all  the  conveniences  you  can  to  the  peo- 
ple you  are  with.  Besides  being  civil,  which  is  abso- 
lutely necessary,  the  perfection  of  good  breeding  is 
to  be  civil  with  ease,  and  in  a  gentleman-like  manner. 


TO  HIS  SON.  29 

For  this,  you  should  observe  the  French  people,  who 
excel  in  it,  and  whose  politeness  seems  as  easy  and 
natural  as  any  other  part  of  their  conversation ; 
whereas  the  English  are  often  awkward  in  their 
civilities,  and  when  they  mean  to  be  civil,  are  too 
much  ashamed  to  get  it  out.  But,  pray,  do  you  re- 
member never  to  be  ashamed  of  doing  what  is  right ; 
you  would  have  a  great  deal  of  reason  to  be  ashamed 
if  you  were  not  civil,  but  what  reason  can  you  have 
to  be  ashamed  of  being  civil  ?  And  why  not  say  a 
civil  and  obliging  thing  as  easily  and  as  naturally  as 
you  would  ask  what  o'clock  it  is?  This  kind  of 
bashfulness,  which  is  justly  called  by  the  French 
mauvaise  honte,  is  the  distinguishing  character  of  an 
English  booby,  who  is  frightened  out  of  his  wits 
when  people  of  fashion  speak  to  him  ;  and  when 
he  is  to  answer  them,  blushes,  stammers,  and  can 
hardly  get  out  what  he  would  say,  and  becomes 
really  ridiculous  from  a  groundless  fear  of  being 
laughed  at ;  whereas  a  real  well-bred  man  would 
speak  to  all  the  kings  in  the  world  with  as  little 
concern  and  as  much  ease  as  he  would  speak  to  you. 
Remember,  then,  that  to  be  civil,  and  to  be  civil 
with  ease  (which  is  properly  called  good  breeding) , 
is  the  only  way  to  be  beloved  and  well  received  in 
company ;  that  to  be  ill  bred  and  rude  is  intoler- 
able, and  the  way  to  be  kicked  out  of  company ; 
and  that  to  be  bashful  is  to  be  ridiculous.  As  I 
am  sure  you  will  mind  and  practise  all  this,  I  expect 
that  when  you  are  novennis,  you  will  not  only  be 
the  best  scholar  but  the  best- bred  boy  in  England 
of  your  age.     Adieu. 


30       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


II. 


A   GENTEEL  MANNER  IMPORTANT.  —  AN  AWKWARD 
FELLOW.  —  ATTENTION. 

Spa,  Jtily  25,  N.  s.  1 741. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  have  often  told  you  in  my  former 
letters  —  and  it  is  most  certainly  true  —  that  the 
strictest  and  most  scrupulous  honor  and  virtue  can 
alone  make  you  esteemed  and  valued  by  mankind ; 
that  parts  and  learning  can  alone  make  you  admired 
and  celebrated  by  them ;  but  that  the  possession  of 
lesser  talents  was  most  absolutely  necessary  towards 
making  you  liked,  beloved,  and  sought  after  in 
private  life.  Of  these  lesser  talents,  good  breeding 
is  the  principal  and  most  necessary  one,  not  only  as 
it  is  very  important  in  itself,  but  as  it  adds  great 
lustre  to  the  more  solid  advantages  both  of  the  heart 
and  the  mind.  I  have  often  touched  upon  good 
breeding  to  you  before,  so  that  this  letter  shall  be 
upon  the  next  necessary  qualification  to  it,  which  is 
a  genteel  and  easy  manner  and  carriage,  wholly  free 
from  those  odd  tricks,  ill  habits,  and  awkwardnesses, 
which  even  many  very  worthy  and  sensible  people 
have  in  their  behavior.  However  trifling  a  genteel 
manner  may  sound,  it  is  of  very  great  consequence 
towards  pleasing  in  private  life,  especially  the  women, 
which  one  time  or  other  you  will  think  worth  pleas- 
ing ;  and  I  have  known  many  a  man  from  his  awk- 
wardness give  people  such  a  dislike  of  him  at  first 
that  all  his  merit  could  not  get  the  better  of  it  after- 
wards.    Whereas   a   genteel   manner    prepossesses 


TO  HIS  SON.  31 

people  in  your  favor,  bends  them  towards  you,  and 
makes  them  wish  to  be  Hke  you.  Awkwardness  can 
proceed  but  from  two  causes,  —  either  from  not  hav- 
ing kept  good  company,  or  from  not  having  attended 
to  it.  As  for  your  keeping  good  company,  I  will  take 
care  of  that  \  do  you  take  care  to  observe  their  ways 
and  manners,  and  to  form  your  own  upon  them. 
Attention  is  absolutely  necessary  for  this,  as  indeed 
it  is  for  everything  else ;  and  a  man  without  atten- 
tion is  not  fit  to  live  in  the  world.  When  an  awk- 
ward fellow  first  comes  into  a  room,  it  is  highly  pro- 
bable that  his  sword  gets  between  his  legs  and 
throws  him  down,  or  makes  him  stumble  at  least ; 
when  he  has  recovered  this  accident,  he  goes  and 
places  himself  in  the  very  place  of  the  whole  room 
where  he  should  not ;  there  he  soon  lets  his  hat  fall 
down,  and  in  taking  it  up  again  throws  down  his 
cane ;  in  recovering  his  cane,  his  hat  falls  a  second 
time,  so  that  he  is  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  he  is 
in  order  again.  If  he  drinks  tea  or  coffee,  he  cer- 
tainFy  scalds  his  mouth,  and  lets  either  the  cup  or 
the  saucer  fall,  and  spills  either  the  tea  or  coffee  in 
his  breeches.  At  dinner,  his  awkwardness  distin- 
guishes itself  particularly,  as  he  has  more  to  do ; 
there  he  holds  his  knife,  fork,  and  spoon  differently 
from  other  people,  eats  with  his  knife,  to  the  great 
danger  of  his  mouth,  picks  his  teeth  with  his  fork, 
and  puts  his  spoon  into  the  dishes  again.  If  he  is 
to  carve  he  can  never  hit  the  joint,  but  in  his  vain 
efforts  to  cut  through  the  bone  scatters  the  sauce  in 
everybody's  face.  He  generally  daubs  himself  with 
soup  and  grease,   though  his  napkin  is  commonly 


32       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

stuck  through  a  button-hole  and  tickles  his  chin. 
When  he  drinks,  he  infallibly  coughs  in  his  glass 
and  besprinkles  the  company.  .  .  .  His  hands  are 
troublesome  to  him  when  he  has  not  something  in 
them,  and  he  does  not  know  where  to  put  them ; 
but  they  are  in  perpetual  motion  between  his  bosom 
and  his  breeches ;  he  does  not  wear  his  clothes,  and 
in  short  does  nothing,  like  other  people.  All  this,  I 
own,  is  not  in  any  degree  criminal ;  but  it  is  highly 
disagreeable  and  ridiculous  in  company,  and  ought 
most  carefully  to  be  avoided  by  whoever  desires  to 
please. 

From  this  account  of  what  you  should  not  do,  you 
may  easily  judge  what  you  should  do ;  and  a  due 
attention  to  the  manners  of  people  of  fashion,  and 
who  have  seen  the  world,  will  make  it  habitual  and 
familiar  to  you. 

There  is,  likewise,  an  awkwardness  of  expression 
and  words  most  carefully  to  be  avoided,  —  such  as 
false  English,  bad  pronunciation,  old  sayings,  and 
common  proverbs,  which  are  so  many  proofs  of 
having  kept  bad  and  low  company.  For  example  : 
if,  instead  of  saying  that  tastes  are  different  and 
that  every  man  has  his  own  peculiar  one,  you  should 
let  off  a  proverb,  and  say.  That  what  is  one  man's 
meat  is  another  man's  poison ;  or  else,  Every  one 
as  they  like,  as  the  good  man  said  when  he  kissed 
his  cow,  —  everybody  would  be  persuaded  that  you 
had  never  kept  company  with  anybody  above  foot- 
men and  housemaids. 

Attention  will  do  all  this ;  and  without  attention 
nothing  is  to  be  done  :  want  of  attention,  which  is 


TO  HIS  SON.  33 

really  want  of  thought,  is  either  folly  or  madness. 
You  should  not  only  have  attention  to  everything 
but  a  quickness  of  attention,  so  as  to  observe  at 
once  all  the  people  in  the  room,  their  motions, 
their  looks,  and  their  words,  and  yet  without  staring 
at  them  and  seeming  to  be  an  observer.  This 
quick  and  unobserved  observation  is  of  infinite 
advantage  in  life,  and  is  to  be  acquired  with  care ; 
and  on  the  contrary  what  is  called  absence,  which 
is  thoughtlessness  and  want  of  attention  about  what 
is  doing,  makes  a  man  so  like  either  a  fool  or  a 
madman,  that  for  my  part  I  see  no  real  difference. 
A  fool  never  has  thought ;  a  madman  has  lost  it  \ 
and  an  absent  man  is,  for  the  time,  without  it. 


III. 

TRUE  PRAISE. —  ELEMENTARY   POLITENESS. 

Spa,  Aug.  6,  1741. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  am  very  well  pleased  with  the 
several  performances  you  sent  me,  and  still  more 
so  with  Mr.  Maittaire's  letter  that  accompanied 
them,  in  which  he  gives  me  a  much  better  ac- 
count of  you  than  he  did  in  his  former.  Zau- 
dari  a  laudato  viro  was  always  a  commendable 
ambition ;  encourage  that  ambition,  and  continue 
to  deserve  the  praises  of  the  praiseworthy.  While 
you  do  so,  you  shall  have  whatever  you  will  from 
me  ;  and  when  you  cease  to  do  so,  you  shall  have 
nothing. 

3 


34       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

I  am  glad  you  have  begun  to  compose  a  little ; 
it  will  give  you  a  habit  of  thinking  upon  subjects, 
which  is  at  least  as  necessary  as  reading  them ; 
therefore  pray  send  me  your  thoughts  upon  this 
subject,  — 

"  Non  sibi,  sed  toti  genitum  se  credere  mundo." 

It  is  a  part  of  Cato's  character  in  Lucan,  who 
says  that  Cato  did  not  think  himself  bom  for  him- 
self only,  but  for  all  mankind.  Let  me  know, 
then,  whether  you  think  that  a  man  is  bom  only 
for  his  own  pleasure  and  advantage,  or  whether 
he  is  not  obliged  to  contribute  to  the  good  of 
the  society  in  which  he  lives  and  of  all  mankind  in 
general.  This  is  certain,  —  that  every  man  re- 
ceives advantages  from  society  which  he  could 
not  have  if  he  were  the  only  man  in  the  world : 
therefore  is  he  not  in  some  measure  in  debt  to 
society;  and  is  he  not  obliged  to  do  for  others 
what  they  do  for  him?  You  may  do  this  in  Eng- 
lish or  Latin,  which  you  please ;  for  it  is  the  think- 
ing part,  and  not  the  language,  that  I  mind  in  this 
case. 

I  warned  you  in  my  last  against  those  disagree- 
able tricks  and  awkwardnesses  which  many  people 
contract  when  they  are  young  by  the  negligence 
of  their  parents,  and  cannot  get  quit  of  them  when 
they  are  old,  —  such  as  odd  motions,  strange  pos- 
tures, and  ungenteel  carriage.  But  there  is  like- 
wise an  awkwardness  of  the  mind  that  ought  to 
be  and  with  care  may  be  avoided  ;  as,  for  instance, 
to  mistake  names.    To  speak  of  Mr.  What-d'ye-call- 


TO  HIS  SON.  35 

him  or  Mrs.  Thingum  or  How-d'ye-call-her  is  ex- 
cessively awkward  and  ordinary.  To  call  people 
by  improper  titles  and  appellations  is  so  too ;  as 
my  Lord  for  Sir,  and  Sir  for  my  Lord.  To  be- 
gin a  story  or  narration  when  you  are  not  perfect 
in  it  and  cannot  go  through  with  it,  but  are  forced 
possibly  to  say  in  the  middle  of  it,  "  I  have  forgot 
the  rest,"  is  very  unpleasant  and  bungling.  One 
must  be  extremely  exact,  clear,  and  perspicuous  in 
everything  one  says ;  otherwise  instead  of  enter- 
taining or  informing  others,  one  only  tires  and 
puzzles  them.  The  voice  and  manner  of  speaking, 
too,  are  not  to  be  neglected.  Some  people  almost 
shut  their  mouths  when  they  speak  and  mutter  so 
that  they  are  not  to  be  understood ;  others  speak 
so  fast  and  sputter  that  they  are  not  to  be  under- 
stood neither ;  some  always  speak  as  loud  as  if  they 
were  talking  to  deaf  people ;  and  others  so  low 
that  one  cannot  hear  them.  All  these  habits  are 
awkward  and  disagreeable,  and  are  to  be  avoided 
by  attention ;  they  are  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
the  ordinary  people  who  have  had  no  care  taken 
of  their  education.  You  cannot  imagine  how  ne- 
cessary it  is  to  mind  all  these  little  things ;  for  I 
have  seen  many  people  with  great  talents  ill  re- 
ceived for  want  of  having  these  talents  too,  and 
others  well  received  only  from  their  little  talents, 
and  who  had  no  great  ones.     Adieu. 


36       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


IV. 


DANCING.— ALL  THINGS,   EVEN  TRIFLES,   SHOULD    BE 
DONE  WELL. 

Dublin  Castle,  Nov.  19,  1745.^ 
Dear  Boy,  —  ...  Now  that  the  Christmas  break- 
ing-up  draws  near,  I  have  ordered  Mr,  Desnoyers  to 
go  to  you  during  that  time,  to  teach  you  to  dance. 
I  desire  you  will  particularly  attend  to  the  grace- 
ful motion  of  your  arms,  which  with  the  manner 
of  putting  on  your  hat  and  giving  your  hand  is  all 
that  a  gentleman  need  attend  to.  Dancing  is  in  it- 
self a  very  trifling,  silly  thing ;  but  it  is  one  of  those 
established  follies  to  which  people  of  sense  are 
sometimes  obliged  to  conform,  and  then  they  should 
be  able  to  do  it  well.  And  though  I  would  not  have 
you  a  dancer,  yet  when  you  do  dance  I  would  have 
you  dance  well,  as  I  would  have  you  do  everything 
you  do  well.  There  is  no  one  thing  so  trifling  but 
which,  if  it  is  to  be  done  at  all,  ought  to  be  done 
well ;  and  I  have  often  told  you  that  I  wished  you 
even  played  at  pitch  and  cricket  better  than  any 
boy  at  Westminster.  For  instance,  dress  is  a  very 
foohsh  thing,  and  yet  it  is  a  very  foolish  thing  for  a 
man  not  to  be  well  dressed,  according  to  his  rank 
and  way  of  life ;  and  it  is  so  far  from  being  a  dis- 
paragement to  any  man's  understanding  that  it  is 
rather  a  proof  of  it  to  be  as  well  dressed  as  those 
whom  he  lives  with  :  the  difference  in  this  case  be- 
tween a  man  of  sense  and   a  fop  is  that  the   fop 

1  Written  during  Lord  Chesterfield's  viceroyalty  in  Ireland. 


TO  HIS  SOJV.  37 

values  himself  upon  his  dress,  and  the  man  of  sense 
laughs  at  it,  at  the  same  time  that  he  knows  he 
must  not  neglect  it.  There  are  a  thousand  foolish 
customs  of  this  kind,  which,  not  being  criminal, 
must  be  complied  with,  and  even  cheerfully,  by 
men  of  sense.  Diogenes  the  cynic  was  a  wise  man 
for  despising  them,  but  a  fool  for  showing  it.  Be 
wiser  than  other  people,  if  you  can ;  but  do  not  tell 
them  so. 


ELOCUTION:    METHOD  OF  DEMOSTHENES. 

Dublin  Castle,  Feb.  8,  1746^ 

You  propose,  I  find,  Demosthenes  for  your 
model,  and  you  have  chosen  very  well ;  but  re- 
member the  pains  he  took  to  be  what  he  was.  He 
spoke  near  the  sea  in  storms,  both  to  use  himself  to 
speak  aloud,  and  not  to  be  disturbed  by  the  noise 
and  tumult  of  pubUc  assemblies ;  he  put  stones  in 
his  mouth  to  help  his  elocution,  which  naturally  was 
not  advantageous;  from  which  facts  I  conclude, 
that  whenever  he  spoke  he  opened  both  his  lips 
and  his  teeth,  and  that  he  articulated  every  word 
and  every  syllable  distinctly,  and  full  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  the  whole  length  of  my  library. 

As  he  took  so  much  pains  for  the  graces  of  ora- 
tory only,  I  conclude  he  took  still  more  for  the 
more  solid  parts  of  it.  I  am  apt  to  think  he  applied 
himself  extremely  to  the  propriety,  the  purity,  and 


38        LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

the  elegance  of  his  language  ;  to  the  distribution  of 
the  parts  of  his  oration ;  to  the  force  of  his  argu- 
ments ;  to  the  strength  of  his  proofs ;  and  to  the 
passions  as  well  as  the  judgments  of  his  audience. 
I  fancy  he  began  with  an  exordium,  to  gain  the 
good  opinion  and  the  affections  of  his  audience  ; 
that  afterwards  he  stated  the  point  in  question 
briefly  but  clearly ;  that  he  then  brought  his  proofs, 
afterwards  his  arguments ;  and  that  he  concluded 
with  a  peroratio,  in  which  he  recapitulated  the  whole 
succinctly,  enforced  the  strong  parts,  and  artfully 
slipped  over  the  weak  ones ;  and  at  last  made  his 
strong  push  at  the  passions  of  his  hearers.  Wher- 
ever you  would  persuade  or  prevail,  address  yourself 
to  the  passions ;  it  is  by  them  that  mankind  is  to 
be  taken.  Caesar  bade  his  soldiers  at  the  battle  of 
Pharsalia  aim  at  the  faces  of  Pompey's  men ;  they 
did  so,  and  prevailed.  I  bid  you  strike  at  the  pas- 
sions ;  and  if  you  do,  you  too  will  prevail.  If  you 
can  once  engage  people's  pride,  love,  pity,  ambi- 
tion, —  or  whichever  is  their  prevailing  passion,  — 
on  your  side,  you  need  not  fear  what  their  reason 
can  do  against  you. 


VI. 


INATTENTION.  —  KNOWLEDGE  OF  MANKIND. 

Dublin  Castle,  March  lo,  1746. 
Sir,  —  I  most  thankfully  acknowledge  the  honor 
of  two  or  three  letters  from  you,  since  1  troubled 


TO  HIS  SON.  39 

you  with  my  last ;  and  am  very  proud  of  the  re- 
peated instances  you  give  me  of  your  favor  and 
protection,  which  I  shall  endeavor  to  deserve.' 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  went  to  hear  a  trial  in 
the  Court  of  King's  Bench ;  and  still  more  so,  that 
you  made  the  proper  animadversions  upon  the  in- 
attention of  many  of  the  people  in  the  Court.  As 
you  observed  very  well  the  indecency  of  that  inat- 
tention, I  am  sure  you  will  never  be  guilty  of  any- 
thing like  it  yourself.  There  is  no  surer  sign  in  the 
world  of  a  little,  weak  mind  than  inattention. 
Whatever  is  worth  doing  at  all  is  worth  doing  well ; 
and  nothing  can  be  well  done  without  attention. 
It  is  the  sure  answer  of  a  fool,  when  you  ask  him 
about  anything  that  was  said  or  done  where  he  was 
present,  that  "  truly  he  did  not  mind  it."  And  why 
did  not  the  fool  mind  it?  What  had  he  else  to  do 
there  but  to  mind  what  was  doing?  A  man  of 
sense  sees,  hears,  and  retains  everything  that  passes 
where  he  is.  I  desire  I  may  never  hear  you  talk  of 
not  minding,  nor  complain,  as  most  fools  do,  of  a 
treacherous  memory.  Mind  not  only  what  people 
say  but  how  they  say  it ;  and  if  you  have  any 
sagacity,  you  may  discover  more  truth  by  your  eyes 
than  by  your  ears.  People  can  say  what  they  will, 
but  they  cannot  look  just  as  they  will ;  and  their 
looks  frequently  discover  what  their  words  are  cal- 
culated to  conceal.  Observe,  therefore,  people's 
looks  carefully  when  they  speak,  not  only  to  you, 
but  to  each  other.     I  have  often  guessed  by  people's 

1  A  little  badinage  at  the  expense  of  the  boy,  who  at  that 
date  was  about  fourteen. 


40       LETTERS  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

faces  what  they  were  saying,  though  I  could  not 
hear  one  word  they  said.  The  most  material  knowl- 
edge of  all  —  I  mean  the  knowledge  of  the  world  — 
is  never  to  be  acquired  without  great  attention  ;  and 
I  know  many  old  people,  who  though  they  have 
lived  long  in  the  world,  are  but  children  still  as  to 
the  knowledge  of  it,  from  their  levity  and  inatten- 
tion. Certain  forms  which  all  people  comply  with, 
and  certain  arts  which  all  people  aim  at,  hide  in 
some  degree  the  truth  and  give  a  general  exterior 
resemblance  to  almost  everybody.  Attention  and 
sagacity  must  see  through  that  veil  and  discover 
the  natural  character.  You  are  of  an  age  now  to 
reflect,  to  observe  and  compare  characters,  and  to 
arm  yourself  against  the  common  arts,  —  at  least  of 
the  world.  If  a  man  with  whom  you  are  but  barely 
acquainted,  and  to  whom  you  have  made  no  offers 
nor  given  any  marks  of  friendship,  makes  you  on  a 
sudden  strong  professions  of  his,  receive  them  with 
civility,  but  do  not  repay  them  with  confidence ;  he 
certainly  means  to  deceive  you,  for  one  man  does 
not  fall  in  love  with  another  at  sight.  If  a  man 
uses  strong  protestations  or  oaths  to  make  you  be- 
lieve a  thing  which  is  of  itself  so  likely  and  prob- 
able that  the  bare  saying  of  it  would  be  sufficient, 
depend  upon  it  he  lies,  and  is  highly  interested  in 
making  you  believe  it ;  or  else  he  would  not  take  so 
much  pains. 

In  about  five  weeks  I  propose  having  the  honor 
of  laying  myself  at  your  feet,  —  which  I  hope  to  find 
grown  longer  than  they  were  when  I  left  them. 
Adieu. 


TO  HIS  SON.  41 


VII. 

NEVER  ATTACK  A   CORPS  COLLECTIVELY. 

April  5,  1746. 

Dear  Boy,  —  Before  it  is  very  long,  I  am  of 
opinion  that  you  will  both  think  and  speak  more 
favorably  of  women  than  you  do  now.  You  seem 
to  think  that  from  Eve  downwards  they  have 
done  a  great  deal  of  mischief.  As  for  that  lady, 
I  give  her  up  to  you ;  but  since  her  time,  history 
will  inform  you  that  men  have  done  much  more 
mischief  in  the  world  than  women;  and  to  say 
the  truth,  I  would  not  advise  you  to  trust  either 
more  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  But  this  I 
will  advise  you  to,  which  is,  never  to  attack  whole 
bodies  of  any  kind  ;  for  besides  that  all  general 
rules  have  their  exceptions,  you  unnecessarily  make 
yourself  a  great  number  of  enemies  by  attacking 
a  corps  collectively.  Among  women,  as  among 
men,  there  are  good  as  well  as  bad ;  and  it 
may  be  full  as  many  or  more  good  than  among 
men.  This  rule  holds  as  to  lawyers,  soldiers,  par- 
sons, courtiers,  citizens,  etc.  They  are  all  men, 
subject  to  the  same  passions  and  sentiments,  dif- 
fering only  in  the  manner,  according  to  their  sev- 
eral educations ;  and  it  would  be  as  imprudent  as 
unjust  to  attack  any  of  them  by  the  lump.  In- 
dividuals forgive  sometimes ;  but  bodies  and  so- 
cieties never  do.  Many  young  people  think  it 
very   genteel    and   witty  to   abuse   the  clergy;    in 


42       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

which  they  are  extremely  mistaken,  since  in  my 
opinion  parsons  are  very  hke  men,  and  neither 
the  better  nor  the  worse  for  wearing  a  black  gown. 
All  general  reflections  upon  nations  and  societies 
are  the  trite,  threadbare  jokes  of  those  who  set 
up  for  wit  without  having  any,  and  so  have  re- 
course to  commonplace.  Judge  of  individuals  from 
your  own  knowledge  of  them,  and  not  from  their 
sex,  profession,  or  denomination. 


VIII. 

ON    TRAVELLING    INTELLIGENTLY. —THE    WELL-BRED 
TRAVELLER. 

Bath,  Sept.  29,  o.  s.  1746.1 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  received  by  the  last  mail  your 
letter  of  the  23d  n.  s.  from  Heidelberg,  and  am 
very  well  pleased  to  find  that  you  inform  your- 
self of  the  particulars  of  the  several  places  you 
go  through.  You  do  mighty  right  to  see  the  curi- 
osities in  those  several  places,  such  as  the  Golden 
Bull  at  Frankfort,  the  Tun  at  Heidelberg,  etc. 
Other  travellers  see  and  talk  of  them ;  it  is  very 
proper  to  see  them,  too,  but  remember  that  see- 
ing is  the  least  material  object  of  travelling,  — 
hearing  and  knowing  are  the  essential  points. 
Therefore  pray  let  your  inquiries  be  chiefly  di- 
rected to  the  knowledge  of  the  constitution   and 

1  At  this  date  Mr.  Stanhope  was  making  his  continental 
tour  in  quest  of  "  The  Graces." 


TO  HIS  SON.  43 

particular  customs  of  the  places  where  you  either 
reside  at  or  pass  through,  whom  they  belong  to, 
by  what  right  and  tenure,  and  since  when ;  in 
whom  the  supreme  authority  is  lodged ;  and  by 
what  magistrates,  and  in  what  manner,  the  civil 
and  criminal  justice  is  administered.  It  is  like- 
wise necessary  to  get  as  much  acquaintance  as 
you  can,  in  order  to  observe  the  characters  and 
manners  of  the  people ;  for  though  human  nature 
is  in  truth  the  same  through  the  whole  human 
species,  yet  it  is  so  differently  modified  and  var- 
ied by  education,  habit,  and  different  customs, 
that  one  should,  upon  a  slight  and  superficial  ob- 
servation, almost  think  it  different. 

As  I  have  never  been  in  Switzerland  myself,  I 
must  desire  you  to  inform  me,  now  and  then,  of 
the  constitution  of  that  country.  As,  for  instance, 
do  the  Thirteen  Cantons  jointly  and  collectively 
form  one  government  where  the  supreme  author- 
ity is  lodged,  or  is  each  canton  sovereign  in  it- 
self, and  under  no  tie  or  constitutional  obligation 
of  acting  in  common  concert  with  the  other  can- 
tons? Can  any  one  canton  make  war  or  form  an 
alliance  with  a  foreign  power  without  the  consent 
of  the  other  twelve  or  at  least  a  majority  of  them  ? 
Can  one  canton  declare  war  against  another? 
If  every  canton  is  sovereign  and  independent  in 
itself,  in  whom  is  the  supreme  power  of  that  can- 
ton lodged?  Is  it  in  one  man,  or  in  a  certain 
number  of  men?  If  in  one  man,  what  is  he 
called  ?  If  in  a  number,  what  are  they  called,  — 
Senate,  Council,  or  what?     I  do  not  suppose  that 


44       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

you  can  yet  know  these  things  yourself;  but  a 
very  little  inquiry  of  those  who  do  will  enable 
you  to  answer  me  these  few  questions  in  your 
next.  You  see,  I  am  sure,  the  necessity  of  know- 
ing these  things  thoroughly,  and  consequently  the 
necessity  of  conversing  much  with  the  people  of 
the  country,  who  alone  can  inform  you  rightly ; 
whereas,  most  of  the  English  who  travel  converse 
only  with  each  other,  and  consequently  know  no 
more  when  they  return  to  England  than  they  did 
when  they  left  it.  This  proceeds  from  a  mauvaise 
honte  which  makes  them  ashamed  of  going  into 
company ;  and  frequently,  too,  from  the  want  of 
the  necessary  language  (French)  to  enable  them 
to  bear  their  part  in  it.  As  for  the  mauvaise 
honte,  I  hope  you  are  above  it.  Your  figure  is 
like  other  people's ;  I  suppose  you  will  care  that 
your  dress  shall  be  so,  too,  and  to  avoid  any  sin- 
gularity. What,  then,  should  you  be  ashamed  of, 
and  why  not  go  into  a  mixed  company  with  as 
much  ease  and  as  little  concern  as  you  would  go 
into  your  own  room?  Vice  and  ignorance  are 
the  only  things  I  know  which  one  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of;  keep  but  clear  of  them  and  you 
may  go  anywhere  without  fear  or  concern.  I 
have  known  some  people  who,  from  feeling  the 
pain  and  inconveniences  of  this  mauvaise  honte, 
have  rushed  into  the  other  extreme  and  turned 
impudent,  as  cowards  sometimes  grow  desperate 
from  the  excess  of  danger ;  but  this,  too,  is  care- 
fully to  be  avoided,  there  being  nothing  more  gen- 
erally  shocking    than    impudence.      The    medium 


TO  HIS  SON.  45 

between  these  two  extremes  marks  out  the  well- 
bred  man ;  he  feels  himself  firm  and  easy  in  all 
companies ;  is  modest  without  being  bashful,  and 
steady  without  being  impudent ;  if  he  is  a  stran- 
ger, he  observes  with  care  the  manners  and  ways 
of  the  people  most  esteemed  at  that  place,  and 
conforms  to  them  with  complaisance.  Instead  of 
finding  fault  with  the  customs  of  that  place  and 
telling  the  people  that  the  English  ones  are  a 
thousand  times  better,  —  as  my  countrymen  are 
very  apt  to  do,  —  he  commends  their  table,  their 
dress,  their  houses,  and  their  manners  a  little 
more,  it  may  be,  than  he  really  thinks  they  de- 
serve. But  this  degree  of  complaisance  is  neither 
criminal  nor  abject,  and  is  but  a  small  price  to 
pay  for  the  good- will  and  affection  of  the  people 
you  converse  with.  As  the  generality  of  people 
are  weak  enough  to  be  pleased  with  these  little 
things,  those  who  refuse  to  please  them  so  cheaply 
are,  in  my  mind,  weaker  than  they. 


IX. 

THE   "ABSENT   MAN."  -  THOUGHTFULNESS. 

Bath,  Oct.  9,  o.  s.  1746. 
Dear  Boy,  — 

What  is  commonly  called  an  absent  man  is  com- 
monly either  a  very  weak  or  a  very  affected  man ; 
but  be   he  which  he  will,  he  is,  I  am  sure,  a  very 


46       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

disagreeable  man  in  company.  He  fails  in  all  the 
common  offices  of  civility ;  he  seems  not  to  know 
those  people  to-day  whom  yesterday  he  appeared 
to  live  in  intimacy  with ;  he  takes  no  part  in  the 
general  conversation,  but  on  the  contrary  breaks 
into  it  from  time  to  time  with  some  start  of  his  own, 
as  if  he  waked  from  a  dream.  This  (as  I  said  be- 
fore) is  a  sure  indication  either  of  a  mind  so  weak 
that  it  is  not  able  to  bear  above  one  object  at  a 
time,  or  so  affected  that  it  would  be  supposed  to 
be  wholly  engrossed  by  and  directed  to  some  very 
great  and  important  objects.  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Mr.  Locke,  and  (it  may  be)  five  or  six  more,  since 
the  creation  of  the  world,  may  have  had  a  right  to 
absence,  from  that  intense  thought  which  the  things 
they  were  investigating  required.  But  if  a  young 
man,  and  a  man  of  the  world,  who  has  no  such 
avocations  to  plead,  will  claim  and  exercise  that 
right  of  absence  in  company,  his  pretended  right 
should  in  my  mind  be  turned  into  an  involuntary 
absence  by  his  perpetual  exclusion  out  of  company. 
However  frivolous  a  company  may  be,  still  while 
you  are  among  them,  do  not  show  them  by  your 
inattention  that  you  think  them  so ;  but  rather 
take  their  tone,  and  conform  in  some  degree  to  their 
weakness,  instead  of  manifesting  your  contempt  for 
them.  There  is  nothing  that  people  bear  more  im- 
patiently or  forgive  less  than  contempt ;  and  an 
injury  is  much  sooner  forgotten  than  an  insult.  If 
therefore  you  would  rather  please  than  offend, 
rather  be  well  than  ill  spoken  of,  rather  be  loved 
than  hated,  remember  to  have  that  constant  atten- 


TO  HIS  SON.  47 

tion  about  you  which  flatters  every  man's  little 
vanity,  and  the  want  of  which,  by  mortifying  his 
pride,  never  fails  to  excite  his  resentment  or  at 
least  his  ill  will.  For  instance,  most  people  (I 
might  say  all  people)  have  their  weaknesses ;  they 
have  their  aversions  and  their  likings  to  such  or 
such  things  ;  so  that  if  you  were  to  laugh  at  a  man 
for  his  aversion  to  a  cat  or  cheese  (which  are 
common  antipathies),  or  by  inattention  and  negli- 
gence to  let  them  come  in  his  way  where  you 
could  prevent  it,  he  would  in  the  first  case  think 
himself  insulted  and  in  the  second  slighted,  and 
would  remember  both.  Whereas  your  care  to  pro- 
cure for  him  what  he  likes  and  to  remove  from  him 
what  he  hates,  shows  him  that  he  is  at  least  an  ob- 
ject of  your  attention ;  flatters  his  vanity,  and  makes 
him  possibly  more  your  friend  than  a  more  impor- " 
tant  service  would  have  done.  With  regard  to 
women,  attentions  still  below  these  are  necessary, 
and  by  the  custom  of  the  world,  in  some  measure 
due,  according  to  the  laws  of  good  breeding. 

My  long  and  frequent  letters,  which  I  send  you 
in  great  doubt  of  their  success,  put  me  in  mind  of 
certain  papers,  which  you  have  very  lately,  and  I 
formerly,  sent  up  to  kites  along  the  string,  which  we 
called  messengers ;  some  of  them  the  wind  used  to 
blow  away,  others  were  torn  by  the  string,  and  but 
few  of  them  got  up  and  stuck  to  the  kite.  But  I 
will  content  myself  now,  as  I  did  then,  if  some  of 
my  present  messengers  do  but  stick  to  you.    Adieu  ! 


48        LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 
X. 

TRUE   PLEASURE   INCONSISTENT  WITH  VICE, 

London,  March  27,  o.  s.  1747. 

Dear  Boy,  —  Pleasure  is  the  rock  which  most 
young  people  split  upon.  They  launch  out  with 
crowded  sails  in  quest  of  it,  but  without  a  compass 
to  direct  their  course,  or  reason  sufficient  to  steer 
the  vessel ;  for  want  of  which,  pain  and  shame, 
instead  of  pleasure,  are  the  returns  of  their  voyage. 
Do  not  think  that  I  mean  to  snarl  at  pleasure  like 
a  Stoic,  or  to  preach  against  it  like  a  parson  ;  no, 
I  mean  to  point  it  out,  and  recommend  it  to  you, 
like  an  Epicurean.  I  wish  you  a  great  deal,  and  my 
only  view  is  to  hinder  you  from  mistaking  it. 

The  character  which  most  young  men  first  aim  at 
is  that  of  a  man  of  pleasure  ;  but  they  generally 
take  it  upon  trust,  and  instead  of  consulting  their 
own  taste  and  inclinations,  they  blindly  adopt  what- 
ever those  with  whom  they  chiefly  converse  are 
pleased  to  call  by  the  name  of  pleasure  ;  and  a  man 
of  pleasure,  in  the  vulgar  acceptation  of  that  phrase, 
means  only  a  beastly  drunkard,  an  abandoned  rake. 
and  a  profligate  swearer  and  curser.  As  it  may  be 
of  use  to  you,  I  am  not  unwilling,  though  at  the 
same  time  ashamed,  to  own  that  the  vices  of  my 
youth  proceeded  much  more  from  my  silly  resolu- 
tion of  being  what  I  heard  called  a  Man  of  Pleasure 
than  from  my  own  inclinations.  I  always  naturally 
hated  drinking ;   and  yet  I  have  often  drunk,  with 


TO  HIS  SON.  49 

disgust  at  the  time,  attended  by  great  sickness  the 
next  day,  only  because  I  then  considered  drinking 
as  a  necessary  qualification  for  a  fine  gentleman 
and  a  Man  of  Pleasure. 

The  same  as  to  gaming.  I  did  not  want  money, 
and  consequently  had  no  occasion  to  play  for  it ; 
but  I  thought  play  another  necessary  ingredient  in 
the  composition  of  a  Man  of  Pleasure,  and  accord- 
ingly I  plunged  into  it  without  desire  at  first,  sac- 
rificed a  thousand  real  pleasures  to  it,  and  made 
myself  solidly  uneasy  by  it  for  thirty  the  best  years 
of  my  life. 

I  was  even  absurd  enough  for  a  little  while  to 
swear,  by  way  of  adorning  and  completing  the 
shining  character  which  I  affected  ;  but  this  folly  I 
soon  laid  aside  upon  finding  both  the  guilt  and  the 
indecency  of  it. 

Thus  seduced  by  fashion,  and  blindly  adopting 
nominal  pleasures,  I  lost  real  ones ;  and  my  fortune 
impaired  and  my  constitution  shattered  are,  I  must 
confess,  the  just  punishment  of  my  errors. 

Take  warning  then  by  them  ;  choose  your  pleas- 
ures for  yourself,  and  do  not  let  them  be  imposed 
upon  you.  Follow  Nature,  and  not  fashion ;  weigh 
the  present  enjoyment  of  your  pleasures  against  the 
necessary  consequences  of  them,  and  then  let  your 
own  common-sense  determine  your  choice. 

Were  I  to  begin  the  world  again  with  the  experi- 
ence which  I  now  have  of  it,  I  would  lead  a  life  of  real 
not  of  imaginary  pleasure.  I  would  enjoy  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  table  and  of  wine,  but  stop  short  of  the 
pains  inseparably  annexed  to  an  excess  in  either.  I 
4 


50       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

would  not,  at  twenty  years,  be  a  preaching  mission- 
ary of  abstemiousness  and  sobriety,  and  I  should  let 
other  people  do  as  they  would  without  formally  and 
sententiously  rebuking  them  for  it ;  but  I  would  be 
most  firmly  resolved  not  to  destroy  my  own  facul- 
ties and  constitution  in  compliance  to  those  who 
have  no  regard  to  their  own.  I  would  play  to  give 
me  pleasure,  but  not  to  give  me  pain ;  that  is,  I 
would  play  for  trifles,  in  mixed  companies,  to  amuse 
myself  and  conform  to  custom ;  but  I  would  take 
care  not  to  venture  for  sums  which,  if  I  won,  I 
should  not  be  the  better  for,  but  if  I  lost,  should 
be  under  a  difficulty  to  pay,  and  when  paid  would 
oblige  me  to  retrench  in  several  other  articles,  —  not 
to  mention  the  quarrels  which  deep  play  commonly 
occasions. 

I  would  pass  some  of  my  time  in  reading  and 
the  rest  in  the  company  of  people  of  sense  and 
learning,  and  chiefly  those  above  me ;  and  I  would 
frequent  the  mixed  companies  of  men  and  women 
of  fashion,  which,  though  often  frivolous,  yet  they 
unbend  and  refresh  the  mind,  not  uselessly  because 
they  certainly  polish  and  soften  the  manners. 


XI. 

A  SHOWY  BINDING.  —  TRUE  ATTIC  SALT. 

London,  April  3,  o.  s.  1747. 
Dear  Boy,  —  If  I  am  rightly  informed,  I  am  now 
writing  to  a  fine  gentleman  in  a  scarlet  coat  laced 


TO  HIS  SON.  51 

with  gold,  a  brocade  waistcoat,  and  all  other  suitable 
ornaments.  The  natural  partiality  of  every  author 
for  his  own  works  makes  me  very  glad  to  hear  tha. 
Mr.  Harte  has  thought  this  last  edition  of  mine  worth 
so  fine  a  binding ;  and  as  he  has  bound  it  in  red 
and  gilt  it  upon  the  back,  I  hope  he  will  take  care 
that  it  shall  be  lettered  too.  A  showish  binding  at 
tracts  the  eyes,  and  engages  the  attention  of  every- 
body, —  but  with  this  difference,  that  women,  and 
men  who  are  like  women,  mind  the  binding  more 
than  the  book ;  whereas  men  of  sense  and  learning 
immediately  examine  the  inside,  and  if  they  find 
that  it  does  not  answer  the  finery  on  the  outside, 
they  throw  it  by  with  the  greater  indignation  and 
contempt.  I  hope  that  when  this  edition  of  my 
works  shall  be  opened  and  read,  the  best  judges  will 
find  connection,  consistency,  solidity,  and  spirit  in 
it.  Mr.  Harte  may  recensere  and  emendare  as  much 
as  he  pleases ;  but  it  will  be  to  little  purpose,  if  you 
do  not  co-operate  with  him.  The  work  will  be 
imperfect.  .  .  . 

I  like  your  account  of  the  salt-works,  which  shows 
that  you  gave  some  attention  while  you  were  seeing 
them.  But  notwithstanding  that  by  your  account 
the  Swiss  salt  is  (I  dare  say)  very  good,  yet  I  am 
apt  to  suspect  that  it  falls  a  little  short  of  the  true 
Attic  salt,  in  which  there  was  a  peculiar  quickness 
and  delicacy.  That  same  Attic  salt  seasoned  almost 
all  Greece  except  Boeotia  ;  and  a  great  deal  of  it  was 
exported  afterwards  to  Rome,  where  it  was  coun- 
terfeited by  a  composition  called  Urbanity,  which 
in  some  time  was  brought  to  very  near  the  perfection 


52       LETTERS   OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

of  the  original  Attic  salt.  The  more  you  are  pow- 
dered with  these  two  kinds  of  salt,  the  better  you 
will  keep  and  the  more  you  will  be  relished. 


XII. 

EPISTOLARY  MODELS. 

London,  July  20,  o.  s.  1747 
.  .  .  Apropos  of  letter-writing,  the  best  models 
that  you  can  form  yourself  upon  are  Cicero,  Car- 
dinal d'Ossat,  Madame  Sevign^,  and  Comte  Bussy 
Rabutin.  Cicero's  Epistles  to  Atticus,  and  to  his 
familiar  friends,  are  the  best  examples  that  you  can 
imitate  in  the  friendly  and  the  familiar  style.  The 
simpHcity  and  the  clearness  of  Cardinal  d'Ossat's 
letters  show  how  letters  of  business  ought  to  be  writ- 
ten ;  no  affected  turns,  no  attempts  at  wit  obscure 
or  perplex  his  matter,  which  is  always  plainly  and 
clearly  stated,  as  business  always  should  be.  For 
gay  and  amusing  letters,  for  enjouement  and  badi- 
nage, there  are  none  that  equal  Comte  Bussy's  and 
Madame  Sevign^'s.  They  are  so  natural  that  they 
seem  to  be  the  extempore  conversations  of  two 
people  of  wit,  rather  than  letters,  —  which  are  com- 
monly studied,  though  they  ought  not  to  be  so.  I 
would  advise  you  to  let  that  book  be  one  in  your 
itinerant  library;  it  will  both  amuse  and  inform 
you. 


TO  HIS  SON.  5  5 


XIII. 
TOLERANCE  AND  TRUTH   RECOMMENDED. 

London,  Sept.  21,  o.  s.  1747. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  received  by  the  last  post  your 
letter  of  the  8th,  n.  s.,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that 
you  are  surprised  at  the  credulity  and  superstition 
of  the  Papists  at  Einsiedlen,  and  at  their  absurd 
stories  of  their  chapel.  But  remember  at  the  same 
time  that  errors  and  mistakes,  however  gross,  in 
matters  of  opinion,  if  they  are  sincere,  are  to  be 
pitied,  but  not  punished  nor  laughed  at.  The  blind- 
ness of  the  understanding  is  as  much  to  be  pitied 
as  the  blindness  of  the  eye  ;  and  there  is  neither 
jest  nor  guilt  in  a  man's  losing  his  way  in  either 
case.  Charity  bids  us  set  him  right  if  we  can,  by 
arguments  and  persuasions ;  but  charity  at  the 
same  time  forbids  either  to  punish  or  ridicule  his 
misfortune.  Every  man's  reason  is,  and  must  be, 
his  guide  ;  and  I  may  as  well  expect  that  every 
man  should  be  of  my  size  and  complexion  as  that 
he  should  reason  just  as  I  do.  Every  man  seeks  for 
truth  ;  but  God  only  knows  who  has  found  it.  It 
IS  therefore  as  unjust  to  persecute  as  it  is  absurd 
to  ridicule  people  for  those  several  opinions  which 
they  cannot  help  entertaining  upon  the  conviction 
of  their  reason.  It  is  the  man  who  tells  or  who 
acts  a  lie  that  is  guilty,  and  not  he  who  honestly 
and  sincerely  believes  the  lie.  I  really  know  nothing 
more  criminal,  more  mean,  and  more  ridiculous  than 


54       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

lying.  It  is  the  production  either  of  malice,  cow- 
ardice, or  vanity,  and  generally  misses  of  its  aim  in 
every  one  of  these  views ;  for  lies  are  always  de- 
tected sooner  or  later.  If  I  tell  a  malicious  lie  in 
order  to  affect  any  man's  fortune  or  character,  I 
may  indeed  injure  him  for  some  time,  but  I  shall 
be  sure  to  be  the  greatest  suiferer  myself  at  last ; 
for  as  soon  as  ever  I  am  detected  (and  detected  I 
most  certainly  shall  be),  I  am  blasted  for  the  in- 
famous attempt,  and  whatever  is  said  afterwards 
to  the  disadvantage  of  that  person,  however  true, 
passes  for  calumny.  If  I  lie  or  equivocate,  for  it  is 
the  same  thing,  in  order  to  excuse  myself  for  some- 
thing that  I  have  said  or  done,  and  to  avoid  the 
danger  and  the  shame  that  I  apprehend  from  it,  I 
discover  at  once  my  fear  as  well  as  my  falsehood, 
and  only  increase  instead  of  avoiding  the  danger 
and  the  shame  ;  I  show  myself  to  be  the  lowest  and 
the  meanest  of  mankind,  and  am  sure  to  be  always 
treated  as  such.  Fear,  instead  of  avoiding,  invites 
danger,  for  concealed  cowards  will  insult  known 
ones.  If  one  has  had  the  misfortune  to  be  in  the 
wrong,  there  is  something  noble  in  frankly  owning 
it ;  it  is  the  only  way  of  atoning  for  it,  and  the 
only  way  of  being  forgiven.  Equivocating,  evading, 
shuffling,  in  order  to  remove  a  present  danger  or 
inconveniency,  is  something  so  mean  and  betrays  so 
much  fear,  that  whoever  practises  them  always  de- 
serves to  be  and  often  will  be  kicked.  There  is 
another  sort  of  lies,  inoffensive  enough  in  them- 
selves, but  wonderfully  ridiculous ;  I  mean  those 
lies  which  a  mistaken  vanity  suggests,  that   defeat 


TO  HIS  SON.  55 

the  very  end  for  which  they  are  calculated,  and  ter- 
minate in  the  humiliation  and  confusion  of  their 
author,  who  is  sure  to  be  detected.  These  are 
chiefly  narrative  and  historical  lies,  all  intended  to 
do  infinite  honor  to  their  author.  He  is  always  the 
hero  of  his  own  romances ;  he  has  been  in  dangers 
from  which  nobody  but  himself  ever  escaped ;  he 
has  seen  with  his  own  eyes  whatever  other  people 
have  heard  or  read  of;  and  has  ridden  more  miles 
post  in  one  day  than  ever  courier  went  in  two.  He 
is  soon  discovered,  and  as  soon  becomes  the  object 
of  universal  contempt  and  ridicule.  Remember 
then,  as  long  as  you  live,  that  nothing  but  strict 
truth  can  carry  you  through  the  world  with  either 
your  conscience  or  your  honor  unwounded.  It  is 
not  only  your  duty,  but  your  interest,  —  as  a  proof 
of  which  you  may  always  observe  that  the  greatest 
fools  are  the  greatest  liars.  For  my  own  part, 
I  judge  of  every  man's  truth  by  his  degree  of 
understanding. 


XIV. 

CAUTION  IN  FORMING  FRIENDSHIPS. —GOOD 
COMPANY. 

London,  Oct.  9,  o.  s.  1747. 
Dear   Boy,  —  People    of  your   age   have,   com- 
monly, an  unguarded  frankness  about  them,  which 
makes  them  the  easy  prey  and  bubbles  ^  of  the  artful 
1  Dupes. 


56       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  the  experienced ;  they  look  upon  every  knave 
or  fool  who  tells  them  that  he  is  their  friend  to  be 
really  so ;  and  pay  that  profession  of  simulated 
friendship  with  an  indiscreet  and  unbounded  confi- 
dence, always  to  their  loss,  often  to  their  ruin. 
Beware  therefore,  now  that  you  are  coming  into 
the  world,  of  these  proffered  friendships.  Receive 
them  with  great  civility  but  with  great  incredulity 
too,  and  pay  them  with  compliments  but  not  with 
confidence.  Do  not  let  your  vanity  and  self-love 
make  you  suppose  that  people  become  your  friends 
at  first  sight  or  even  upon  a  short  acquaintance. 
Real  friendship  is  a  slow  grower,  and  never  thrives 
unless  ingrafted  upon  a  stock  of  known  and  recip- 
rocal merit. 

There  is  another  kind  of  nominal  friendship 
among  young  people,  which  is  warm  for  the  time, 
but  by  good  luck  of  short  duration.  This  friend- 
ship is  hastily  produced  by  their  being  accidently 
thrown  together  and  pursuing  the  same  course  of 
riot  and  debauchery.  A  fine  friendship  truly,  and 
well  cemented  by  drunkenness  and  lewdness  !  It 
should  rather  be  called  a  conspiracy  against  morals 
and  good  manners,  and  be  punished  as  such  by  the 
civil  magistrate.  However,  they  have  the  impudence 
and  folly  to  call  this  confederacy  a  friendship.  They 
lend  one  another  money  for  bad  purposes ;  they 
engage  in  quarrels,  offensive  and  defensive,  for  their 
accomplices ;  they  tell  one  another  all  they  know, 
and  often  more  too,  when  of  a  sudden  some  acci- 
dent disperses  them  and  they  think  no  more  of  each 
other,  unless  it  be  to  betray  and  laugh  at  their  im- 


TO  HIS  SON.  57 

prudent  confidence.  Remember  to  make  a  great 
difference  between  companions  and  friends;  for  a 
very  complaisant  and  agreeable  companion  may, 
and  often  does,  prove  a  very  improper  and  a  very 
dangerous  friend.  People  will  in  a  great  degree, 
and  not  without  reason,  form  their  opinion  of  you 
upon  that  which  they  have  of  your  friends  ;  and 
there  is  a  Spanish  proverb  which  says  very  justly, 
"  Tell  me  whom  you  live  with  and  I  will  tell  you  who 
you  are.''  One  may  fairly  suppose  that  the  man  who 
makes  a  knave  or  a  fool  his  friend  has  something 
very  bad  to  do  or  to  conceal.  But  at  the  same  time 
that  you  carefully  decline  the  friendship  of  knaves  and 
fools,  if  it  can  be  called  friendship,  there  is  no  occa- 
sion to  make  either  of  them  your  enemies  wantonly 
and  unprovoked,  for  they  are  numerous  bodies  ;  and 
I  would  rather  choose  a  secure  neutrality  than  alli- 
ance or  war  with  either  of  them.  You  may  be  a 
declared  enemy  to  their  vices  and  follies  without 
being  marked  out  by  them  as  a  personal  one.  Their 
enmity  is  the  next  dangerous  thing  to  their  friend- 
ship. Have  a  real  reserve  with  almost  everybody, 
and  have  a  seeming  reserve  with  almost  nobody ; 
for  it  is  very  disagreeable  to  seem  reserved,  and 
very  dangerous  not  to  be  so.  Few  people  find  the 
true  medium ;  many  are  ridiculously  mysterious 
and  reserved  upon  trifles,  and  many  imprudently 
communicative  of  all  they  know. 

The  next  thing  to  the  choice  of  your  friends  is 
the  choice  of  your  company.  Endeavor  as  much  as 
you  can  to  keep  company  with  people  above  you  ; 
there  you  rise  as  much  as  you  sink  with  people  be- 


58       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

low  you,  for  (as  I  have  mentioned  before)  you 
are  whatever  the  company  you  keep  is.  Do  not 
mistake  when  I  say  company  above  you  and  think 
that  I  mean  with  regard  to  their  birth,  —  that  is  the 
least  consideration ;  but  I  mean  with  regard  to  their 
merit,  and  the  light  in  which  the  world  considers  them. 
There  are  two  sorts  of  good  company,  —  one  which 
is  called  the  beau  monde,  and  consists  of  the  people 
who  have  the  lead  in  courts  and  in  the  gay  part  of 
life  ;  the  other  consists  of  those  who  are  distinguished 
by  some  peculiar  merit,  or  who  excel  in  some  partic- 
ular and  valuable  art  or  science.  For  my  own  part, 
I  used  to  think  myself  in  company  as  much  above 
me,  when  I  was  with  Mr.  Addison  and  Mr.  Pope,* 
as  if  I  had  been  with  all  the  princes  in  Europe. 
What  I  mean  by  low  company  —  which  should  by 
all  means  be  avoided  —  is  the  company  of  those 
who,  absolutely  insignificant  and  contemptible  in 
themselves,  think  they  are  honored  by  being  in  your 
company,  and  who  flatter  every  vice  and  every  folly 
you  have  in  order  to  engage  you  to  converse  with 
them.  The  pride  of  being  the  first  of  the  company 
is  but  too  common ;  but  it  is  very  silly  and  very 
prejudicial.  Nothing  in  the  world  lets  down  a  char- 
acter quicker  than  that  wrong  turn. 

1  This  allusion  to  Pope  recalls  Lord  Chesterfield's  epi- 
gram upon  a  full-length  portrait  of  Beau  Nash,  placed  in 
the  Pump  Room  at  Bath  between  the  busts  of  Newton  and 
Pope, — 

"  This  picture,  placed  the  busts  between, 
Gives  satire  all  its  strength  ; 
Wisdom  and  Wit  are  little  seen. 
But  Folly  at  full  length." 


TO  HIS  SON.  59 

You  may  possibly  ask  me  whether  a  man  has  it 
always  in  his  power  to  get  the  best  company,  and 
how?  I  say,  Yes,  he  has,  by  deserving  it ;  provided 
he  is  but  in  circumstances  which  enable  him  to 
appear  upon  the  footing  of  a  gentleman.  Merit 
and  good  breeding  will  make  their  way  everywhere. 
Knowledge  will  introduce  him  and  good  breeding 
will  endear  him  to  the  best  companies ;  for  as  I 
have  often  told  you,  politeness  and  good  breeding 
are  absolutely  necessary  to  adorn  any  or  all  other 
good  qualities  or  talents.  Without  them  no  knowl- 
edge, no  perfection  whatever,  is  seen  in  its  best  light. 
The  scholar  without  good  breeding  is  a  pedant ; 
the  philosopher  a  cynic ;  the  soldier  a  brute ;  and 
every  man  disagreeable. 

I  long  to  hear  from  my  several  correspondents  at 
Leipzig  of  your  arrival  there,  and  what  impression 
you  make  on  them  at  first ;  for  I  have  Arguses  with 
a  hundred  eyes  each  who  will  watch  you  narrowly 
and  relate  to  me  faithfully.  My  accounts  will  cer- 
tainly be  true  ;  it  depends  upon  you  entirely  of  what 
kind  they  shall  be.     Adieu. 


XV. 

THE  ART  OF  PLEASING. —  INDULGENCE  FOR  THE 
WEAKNESSES  OF  OTHERS 

London,  Oct.  i6,  o.  s.  1747. 
Dear  Boy,  —  The  art  of  pleasing  is  a  very  neces- 
sary one  to  possess,  but  a  very  difficult  one  to  ac- 
qxiire.     It  can  hardly  be  reduced  t<^  rules ;  and  your 


6o       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

own  good  sense  and  observation  will  teach  you  more 
of  it  than  I  can.  ''Do  as  you  would  be  done  by  " 
is  the  surest  method  that  I  know  of  pleasing.  Ob- 
serve carefully  what  pleases  you  in  others,  and  prob- 
ably the  same  thing  in  you  will  please  others.  If 
you  are  pleased  with  the  complaisance  and  attention 
of  others  to  your  humors,  your  tastes,  or  your  weak- 
nesses, depend  upon  it  the  same  complaisance  and 
attention  on  your  part  to  theirs  will  equally  please 
them.  Take  the  tone  of  the  company  that  you  are 
in,  and  do  not  pretend  to  give  it ;  be  serious,  gay, 
or  even  trifling,  as  you  find  the  present  humor  of 
the  company,  —  this  is  an  attention  due  from  every 
individual  to  the  majority.  Do  not  tell  stories  in 
company ;  there  is  nothing  more  tedious  and  dis- 
agreeable. If  by  chance  you  know  a  very  short 
story  and  exceedingly  applicable  to  the  present  sub- 
ject of  conversation,  tell  it  in  as  few  words  as  pos- 
sible ;  and  even  then  throw  out  that  you  do  not  love 
to  tell  stories,  but  that  the  shortness  of  it  tempted 
you.  Of  all  things  banish  the  egotism  out  of  your 
conversation,  and  never  think  of  entertaining  people 
with  your  own  personal  concerns  or  private  affairs. 
Though  they  are  interesting  to  you,  they  are  tedious 
and  impertinent  to  everybody  else  ;  besides  that, 
one  cannot  keep  one's  own  private  affairs  too  secret. 
Whatever  you  think  your  own  excellencies  may  be, 
do  not  affectedly  display  them  in  company,  nor  la- 
bor, as  many  people  do,  to  give  that  turn  to  the 
conversation  which  may  supply  you  with  an  oppor- 
tunity of  exhibiting  them.  If  they  are  real  they 
will  infallibly  be  discovered  without  your  pointing 


TO  HIS  SON.  6 1 

them  out  yourself,  and  with  much  more  advantage. 
Never  maintain  an  argument  with  heat  and  clamor, 
though  you  think  or  know  yourself  to  be  in  the 
right,  but  give  your  opinion  modestly  and  coolly, 
which  is  the  only  way  to  convince  ;  and  if  that  does 
not  do,  try  to  change  the  conversation  by  saying, 
with  good  humor,  "  We  shall  hardly  convince  one 
another,  nor  is  it  necessary  that  we  should ;  so  let 
us  talk  of  something  else." 

Remember  that  there  is  a  local  propriety  to  be 
observed  in  all  companies,  and  that  what  is  ex- 
tremely proper  in  one  company  may  be,  and  often 
is,  highly  improper  in  another. 

The  jokes,  the  bon-mots,  the  little  adventures 
which  may  do  very  well  in  one  company  will  seem 
flat  and  tedious  when  related  in  another.  The  par- 
ticular characters,  the  habits,  the  cant  of  one  com- 
pany may  give  merit  to  a  word  or  a  gesture  which 
would  have  none  at  all  if  divested  of  those  acci- 
dental circumstances.  Here  people  very  commonly 
err ;  and  fond  of  something  that  has  entertained 
them  in  one  company  and  in  certain  circumstances, 
repeat  it  with  emphasis  in  another  where  it  is  either 
insipid,  or,  it  may  be,  offensive  by  being  ill-timed  or 
misplaced.  Nay,  they  often  do  it  with  this  silly 
preamble,  "  I  will  tell  you  an  excellent  thing,"  or 
"  I  will  tell  you  the  best  thing  in  the  world."  This 
raises  expectations,  which  when  absolutely  disap- 
pointed, make  the  relator  of  this  excellent  thing 
look,  very  deservedly,  like  a  fool. 

If  you  would  particularly  gain  the  affection  and 
friendship    of  particular    people,  whether   men   or 


62       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

women,  endeavor  to  find  out  their  predominant  ex- 
cellency, if  they  have  one,  and  their  prevailing  weak- 
ness, which  everybody  has,  and  do  justice  to  the 
one  and  something  more  than  justice  to  the  other. 
Men  have  various  objects  in  which  they  may  excel, 
or  at  least  would  be  thought  to  excel ;  and  though 
they  love  to  hear  justice  done  to  them  where  they 
know  that  they  excel,  yet  they  are  most  and  best 
flattered  upon  those  points  where  they  wish  to  ex- 
cel and  yet  are  doubtful  whether  they  do  or  not. 
As,  for  example.  Cardinal  Richelieu,  who  was  un- 
doubtedly the  ablest  statesman  of  his  time,  or  per- 
haps of  any  other,  had  the  idle  vanity  of  being 
thought  the  best  poet,  too ;  he  envied  the  great 
Corneille  his  reputation,  and  ordered  a  criticism  to 
be  written  upon  the  Cid.  Those  therefore  who 
flattered  skilfully  said  little  to  him  of  his  abilities  in 
state  affairs,  or  at  least  but  en  passant,  and  as  it 
might  naturally  occur.  But  the  incense  which  they 
gave  him  the  smoke  of  which  they  knew  would 
turn  his  head  in  their  favor,  was  as  a  bel  esprit  and  a 
poet.  Why?  Because  he  was  sure  of  one  excel- 
lency, and  distrustful  as  to  the  other.  You  will 
easily  discover  every  man's  prevailing  vanity  by  ob- 
serving his  favorite  topic  of  conversation  ;  for  every 
man  talks  most  of  what  he  has  most  a  mind  to  be 
thought  to  excel  in.  Touch  him  but  there,  and  you 
touch  him  to  the  quick.  The  late  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole  (who  was  certainly  an  able  man)  was  little 
open  to  flattery  upon  that  head,  for  he  was  in  no 
doubt  himself  about  it ;  but  his  prevailing  weakness 
was  to  be  thought  to  have  a  polite  and  happy  turn 


TO  HIS  SON.  63 

to  gallantry,  of  which  he  had  undoubtedly  less  than 
any  man  living.  It  was  his  favorite  and  frequent 
subject  of  conversation,  which  proved  to  those  who 
had  any  penetration  that  it  was  his  prevailing  weak- 
ness ;  and  they  applied  to  it  with  success. 

Women  have  in  general  but  one  object,  which  is 
their  beauty,  upon  which  scarce  any  flattery  is  too 
gross  for  them  to  swallow.  Nature  has  hardly 
formed  a  woman  ugly  enough  to  be  insensible  to 
flattery  upon  her  person ;  if  her  face  is  so  shocking 
that  she  must  in  some  degree  be  conscious  of  it,  her 
figure  and  her  air,  she  trusts,  make  ample  amends 
for  it ;  if  her  figure  is  deformed,  her  face,  she 
thinks,  counterbalances  it ;  if  they  are  both  bad, 
she  comforts  herself  that  she  has  graces,  a  certain 
manner,  a  j'e  ne  sais  quoi  ^  still  more  engaging  than 
beauty.  This  truth  is  evident  from  the  studied  and 
elaborate  dress  of  the  ugliest  women  in  the  world. 
An  undoubted,  uncontested,  conscious  beauty  is  of 
all  women  the  least  sensible  of  flattery  upon  that 
head ;  she  knows  that  it  is  her  due,  and  is  therefore 
obliged  to  nobody  for  giving  it  her.  She  must  be 
flattered  upon  her  understanding,  which  though  she 
may  possibly  not  doubt  of  herself,  yet  she  suspects 
that  men  may  distrust. 

Do  not  mistake  me  and  think  that  I  mean  to 
recommend  to  you  abject  and  criminal  flattery. 
No,  flatter  nobody's  vices  or  crimes ;  on  the  con- 
trary, abhor  and  discourage  them.     But  there  is  no 

^  For  an  admirable  analysis  of  this  expression  the  reader 
is  referred  to  the  letter  to  his  godson  dated  Aug.  9,  1768, 
and  given  in  this  volume  at  page  293. 


64       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

living  in  the  world  without  a  complaisant  indulgence 
for  people's  weaknesses  and  innocent  though  ridic- 
ulous vanities.  If  a  man  has  a  mind  to  be  thought 
wiser  and  a  woman  handsomer  than  they  really  are, 
their  error  is  a  comfortable  one  to  themselves  and 
an  innocent  one  with  regard  to  other  people  ;  and  I 
would  rather  make  them  my  friends  by  indulging 
them  in  it  than  my  enemies  by  endeavoring  —  and 
that  to  no  purpose  —  to  undeceive  them. 

There  are  little  attentions  likewise  which  are  in- 
finitely engaging,  and  which  sensibly  affect  that  de- 
gree of  pride  and  self-love  which  is  inseparable  from 
human  nature,  as  they  are  unquestionable  proofs  of 
the  regard  and  consideration  which  we  have  for  the 
person  to  whom  we  pay  them.  As,  for  example,  to 
observe  the  little  habits,  the  likings,  the  antipa- 
thies, and  the  tastes  of  those  whom  we  would 
gain,  and  then  take  care  to  provide  them  with  the 
one  and  to  secure  them  from  the  other,  —  giving 
them  genteelly  to  understand  that  you  had  observed 
that  they  liked  such  a  dish  or  such  a  room,  for 
which  reason  you  had  prepared  it ;  or,  on  the 
contrary,  that  having  observed  they  had  an  aversion 
to  such  a  dish,  a  dislike  to  such  a  person,  etc.,  you 
had  taken  care  to  avoid  presenting  them.  Such 
attention  to  such  trifles  flatters  self-love  much 
more  than  greater  things,  as  it  makes  people  think 
themselves  almost  the  only  objects  of  your  thoughts 
and  care. 

These  are  some  of  the  arcana  necessary  for  your 
initiation  in  the  great  society  of  the  world.  I  wish 
I  had  known  them  better  at  your  age ;  I  have  paid 


TO  HIS  SON.  65 

the  price  of  three  and  fifty  years  for  them,  and  shall 
not  grudge  it  if  you  reap  the  advantage.     Adieu. 


XVI. 

ON  COMBINING  STUDY  WITH  PLEASURE. 

London,  Oct.  30,  o.  s.  1747. 

In  short,  be  curious,  attentive,  inquisitive  as  to 
everything ;  listlessness  and  indolence  are  always 
blamable,  but  at  your  age  they  are  unpardonable. 
Consider  how  precious  and  how  important  for  all  the 
rest  of  your  life  are  your  moments  for  these  next 
three  or  four  years,  and  do  not  lose  one  of  them. 
Do  not  think  I  mean  that  you  should  study  all  day 
long ;  I  am  far  from  advising  or  desiring  it ;  but  I 
desire  that  you  would  be  doing  something  or  other 
all  day  long,  and  not  neglect  half  hours  and  quarters 
of  hours,  which  at  the  year's  end  amount  to  a  great 
sum.  For  instance,  there  are  many  short  intervals 
during  the  day  between  studies  and  pleasures  ;  in- 
stead of  sitting  idle  and  yawning  in  those  intervals, 
take  up  any  book,  though  ever  so  trifling  a  one,  even 
down  to  a  jest-book,  it  is  still  better  than  doing 
nothing. 

Nor  do  I  call  pleasures  idleness  or  time  lost,  pro- 
vided they  are  the  pleasures  of  a  rational  being ;  on 
the  contrary,  a  certain  portion  of  your  time  em- 
ployed in  those  pleasures  is  very  usefully  employed. 
Such  are  public  spectacles,  assemblies  of  good  com- 
pany, cheerful  suppers,  and  even  balls ;  but  then 
5 


66       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

these  require  attention,  or  else   your  time  is  quite 
lost. 

There  are  a  great  ntiany  people  who  think  them- 
selves employed  all  day,  and  who  if  they  were  to 
cast  up  their  accounts  at  night,  would  find  that  they 
had  done  just  nothing.  They  have  read  two  or  three 
hours  mechanically,  without  attending  to  what  they 
read,  and  consequently  without  either  retaining  it  or 
reasoning  upon  it.  From  thence  they  saunter  into 
company,  without  taking  any  part  in  it,  and  without 
observing  the  characters  of  the  persons  or  the  sub- 
jects of  the  conversation  ;  but  are  either  thinking  of 
some  trifle,  foreign  to  the  present  purpose,  or  often 
not  thinking  at  all,  —  which  silly  and  idle  suspension 
of  thought  they  would  dignify  with  the  name  of  ab- 
sence and  distraction.  They  go  after\vards,  it  may 
be,  to  the  play,  where  they  gape  at  the  company 
and  the  lights,  but  without  minding  the  very  thing 
they  went  to,  —  the  play. 


XVII. 

A  WISE  GUIDE  THE  BEST  FRIEND. 

London,  Nov.  24,  1747. 

Whatever  your  pleasures  may  be,  I  neither  can  nor 
shall  envy  you  them,  as  old  people  are  sometimes 
suspected  by  young  people  to  do ;  and  I  shall  only 
lament,  if  they  should  prove  such  as  are  unbecoming 
a  man  of  honor  or  below  a  man  of  sense.     But  you 


TO  HTS  SON.  67 

will  be  the  real  sufferer  if  they  are  such.  As  there- 
fore it  is  plain  that  I  can  have  no  other  motive  than 
that  of  aifection  in  whatever  I  say  to  you,  you  ought 
to  look  upon  me  as  your  best,  and  for  some  years  to 
come,  your  only  friend. 

True  friendship  requires  certain  proportions  of  age 
and  manners,  and  can  never  subsist  where  they  are 
extremely  different,  except  in  the  relations  of  parent 
and  child,  where  affection  on  one  side  and  regard 
on  the  other  make  up  the  difference.  The  friend- 
ship which  you  may  contract  with  people  of  your  own 
age  may  be  sincere,  may  be  warm,  but  must  be  for 
some  time  reciprocally  unprofitable,  as  there  can  be 
no  experience  on  either  side.  The  young  leading 
the  young  is  like  the  blind  leading  the  blind,  —  "  they 
will  both  fall  into  the  ditch."  The  only  sure  guide 
is  he  who  has  often  gone  the  road  which  you  want 
to  go.  Let  me  be  that  guide,  who  have  gone  all 
roads,  and  who  can  consequently  point  out  to  you 
the  best.  If  you  ask  me  why  I  went  any  of  the  bad 
roads  myself,  I  will  answer  you  very  truly  that  it 
was  for  want  of  a  good  guide ;  ill  example  invited 
me  one  way,  and  a  good  guide  was  wanting  to  show 
me  a  better.  But  if  anybody  capable  of  advising  me 
had  taken  the  same  pains  with  me  which  I  have 
taken,  and  will  continue  to  take  with  you,  I  should 
have  avoided  many  folUes  and  inconveniences  which 
undirected  youth  run  me  into.  My  father  was  neither 
desirous  nor  able  to  advise  me ;  ^  which  is  what,  I 

^  Lord  Chesterfield's  father  seems  to  have  contracted  a 
dislike  to  him  ;  and  his  early  training  fell  to  the  care  of  his 
grandmother,  Lady  Halifax. 


68       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

hope,  you  cannot  say  of  yours.  You  see  that  I  make 
use  only  of  the  word  "  advice,"  because  I  would  much 
rather  have  the  assent  of  your  reason  to  my  advice 
than  the  submission  of  your  will  to  my  authority. 
This,  I  persuade  myself,  will  happen  from  that  de- 
gree of  sense  which  I  think  you  have  ;  and  therefore 
I  will  go  on  advising,  and  with  hopes  of  success. 


XVIII. 

THE  VALUE  OF  TIME. 

London,  Dec.  ii,  o.  s.  1747. 
Dear  Boy,  —  There  is  nothing  which  I  more  wish 
that  you  should  know,  and  which  fewer  people  do 
know,  than  the  true  use  and  value  of  Time.  It  is 
in  everybody's  mouth,  but  in  few  people's  practice. 
Every  fool  who  slatterns  away  his  whole  time  in 
nothings,  utters,  however,  some  trite  common- 
place sentence,  of  which  there  are  millions,  to 
prove  at  once  the  value  and  the  fleetness  of  time. 
The  sun-dials,  likewise,  all  over  Europe  have 
some  ingenious  inscription  to  that  effect ;  so  that 
nobody  squanders  away  their  time  without  hearing 
and  seeing  daily  how  necessary  it  is  to  employ  it 
well,  and  how  irrecoverable  it  is  if  lost.  But  all  these 
admonitions  are  useless  where  there  is  not  a  fund  of 
good  sense  and  reason  to  suggest  them  rather  than 
receive  them.  By  the  manner  in  which  you  now 
tell  me  that  you  employ  your  time,  I  flatter  myself 


TO  HIS  SON.  6g 

that  you  have  that  fund  ;  that  is  the  fund  which  will 
make  you  rich  indeed.  I  do  not  therefore  mean 
to  give  you  a  critical  essay  upon  the  use  and  abuse 
of  time,  but  I  will  only  give  you  some  hints  with 
regard  to  the  use  of  one  particular  period  of  that 
long  time  which,  I  hope,  you  have  before  you ;  I 
mean  the  next  two  years.  Remember  then,  that 
whatever  knowledge  you  do  not  solidly  lay  the 
foundation  of  before  you  are  eighteen,  you  will  never 
be  the  master  of  while  you  breathe.  Knowledge  is  a 
comfortable  and  necessary  retreat  and  shelter  for  us 
in  an  advanced  age ;  and  if  we  do  not  plant  it 
while  young,  it  will  give  us  no  shade  when  we  grow 
old.  I  neither  require  nor  expect  from  you  great 
application  to  books  after  you  are  once  thrown  out 
into  the  great  world.  I  know  it  is  impossible,  and  it 
may  even  in  some  cases  be  improper;  this  there- 
fore is  your  time,  and  your  only  time,  for  unwearied 
and  uninterrupted  application.  If  you  should  some- 
times think  it  a  little  laborious,  consider  that  labor 
is  the  unavoidable  fatigue  of  a  necessary  journey. 
The  more  hours  a  day  you  travel,  the  sooner  you 
will  be  at  your  journey's  end.  The  sooner  you  are 
qualified  for  your  liberty,  the  sooner  you  shall  have 
it ;  and  your  manumission  will  entirely  depend  upon 
the  manner  in  which  you  employ  the  intermediate 
time.  I  think  I  offer  you  a  very  good  bargain 
when  I  promise  you  upon  my  word  that  if  you  will 
do  everything  that  I  would  have  you  do  till  you 
are  eighteen,  I  will  do  everything  that  you  would 
have  me  do  ever  afterwards. 


•JO       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


XIX. 

TIME  WELL  AND  TIME  ILL  SPENT.  — OBSERVATION 
RECOMMENDED. 

Bath,  Feb.  i6,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  The  first  use  that  I  made  of  my  lib- 
erty ^  was  to  come  hither,  where  I  arrived  yesterday. 
My  health,  though  not  fundamentally  bad,  yet  for 
want  of  proper  attention  of  late  wanted  some  repairs, 
which  these  waters  never  fail  giving  it.  I  shall  drink 
them  a  month,  and  return  to  London,  there  to  en- 
joy the  comforts  of  social  life  instead  of  groaning 
under  the  load  of  business.  I  have  given  the 
description  of  the  life  that  I  propose  to  lead  for  the 
future  in  this  motto,  which  I  have  put  up  in  the 
frieze  of  my  library  in  my  new  house,^  — 

Nunc  veterum  libris,  nunc  somno  et,  inertibus  horis 
Ducere  sollicitae  jucunda  oblivia  vitae. 

I  must  observe  to  you  upon  this  occasion  that  the 
uninterrupted  satisfaction  which  I  expect  to  find  in 
that  library  will  be  chiefly  owing  to  my  having  em- 
ployed some  part  of  my  life  well  at  your  age.  I 
wish  I  had  employed  it  better,  and  my  satisfaction 
would  now  be  complete  ;  but,  however,  I  planted 
while  young  that  degree  of  knowledge  which  is  now 
my  refuge  and  my  shelter.  Make  your  plantations 
still  more  extensive ;  they  will  more  than  pay  you  for 
your  trouble.    I  do  not  regret  the  time  that  I  passed 

1  He  had  just  resigned  the  office  of  Secretary  of  State. 

2  Chesterfield  House  in  London. 


TO  HIS  SON.  71 

in  pleasures ;  they  were  seasonable ;  they  were  the 
pleasures  of  youth,  and  I  enjoyed  them  while  young. 
If  I  had  not,  I  should  probably  have  overvalued 
them  now,  as  we  are  very  apt  to  do  what  we  do  not 
know ;  but  knowing  them  as  I  do,  I  know  their  real 
value,  and  how  much  they  are  generally  overrated. 
Nor  do  I  regret  the  time  that  I  have  passed  in  business 
for  the  same  reason ;  those  who  see  only  the  out- 
side of  it  imagine  it  has  hidden  charms,  which  they 
pant  after,  and  nothing  but  acquaintance  can  unde- 
ceive them.  I,  who  have  been  behind  the  scenes 
both  of  pleasure  and  business,  and  have  seen  all  the 
springs  and  pulleys  of  those  decorations  which  as- 
tonish and  dazzle  the  audience,  retire  not  only 
without  regret  but  with  contentment  and  satis- 
faction. But  what  I  do  and  ever  shall  regret,  is 
the  time  which,  while  young,  I  lost  in  mere  idleness, 
and  in  doing  nothing.  This  is  the  common  effect  of 
the  inconsideracy  of  youth,  against  which  I  beg  you 
will  be  most  carefully  upon  your  guard.  The  value 
of  moments  when  cast  up  is  immense,  if  well  em- 
ployed ;  if  thrown  away,  their  loss  is  irrecoverable. 
Every  moment  may  be  put  to  some  use,  and  that 
with  much  more  pleasure  than  if  unemployed.  Do 
not  imagine  that  by  the  employment  of  time  I 
mean  an  uninternipted  application  to  serious  studies. 
No ;  pleasures  are  at  proper  times  both  as  nec- 
essary and  as  useful ;  they  fashion  and  form  you  for 
the  world ;  they  teach  you  characters,  and  show  you 
the  human  heart  in  its  unguarded  minutes.  But 
then  remember  to  make  that  use  of  them.  I  have 
known    many    people    from    laziness   of  mind    go 


72       LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

through  both  pleasure  and  business  with  equal  inat- 
tention, neither  enjoying  the  one  nor  doing  the 
other ;  thinking  themselves  men  of  pleasure  because 
they  were  mingled  with  those  who  were,  and  men  of 
business  because  they  had  business  to  do,  though 
they  did  not  do  it.  Whatever  you  do,  do  it  to  the 
purpose ;  do  it  thoroughly,  not  superficially.  Ap- 
profondissez :  go  to  the  bottom  of  things.  Anything 
half  done  or  half  known  is,  in  my  mind,  neither  done 
nor  known  at  all.  Nay,  worse,  for  it  often  misleads. 
There  is  hardly  any  place  or  any  company  where 
you  may  not  gain  knowledge,  if  you  please ;  almost 
everybody  knows  some  one  thing,  and  is  glad  to 
talk  upon  that  one  thing.  Seek  and  you  will  find, 
in  this  world  as  well  as  in  the  next.  See  every- 
thing, inquire  into  everything ;  and  you  may  excuse 
your  curiosity  and  the  questions  you  ask,  which 
otherwise  might  be  thought  impertinent,  by  your 
manner  of  asking  them,  —  for  most  things  depend  a 
great  deal  upon  the  manner  :  as  for  example,  "  I  am 
afraid  that  I  am  very  troublesome  with  my  ques- 
tions, but  nobody  can  inform  me  so  well  as  you,"  or 
something  of  that  kind. 

Now  that  you  are  in  a  Lutheran  country,  go  to 
their  churches  and  observe  the  manner  of  their 
public  worship ;  attend  to  their  ceremonies  and 
inquire  the  meaning  and  intention  of  every  one  of 
them.  And  as  you  will  soon  understand  German 
well  enough,  attend  to  their  sermons  and  observe 
their  manner  of  preaching.  Inform  yourself  of  their 
church  government,  whether  it  resides  in  the  sove- 
reign or  in  consistories  and  synods ;  whence  arises 


TO  HIS  SON.  73 

the  maintenance  of  their  clergy,  whether  from  tithes 
as  in  England,  or  from  voluntary  contributions  or 
from  pensions  from  the  State.  Do  the  same  thing 
when  you  are  in  Roman-Catholic  countries ;  go  to 
their  churches,  see  all  their  ceremonies,  ask  the 
meaning  of  them,  get  the  terms  explained  to  you,  — 
as,  for  instance,  Prime,  Tierce,  Sexte,  Nones,  Matins, 
Angelus,  High  Mass,  Vespers,  Complies,  etc.  In- 
form yourself  of  their  several  religious  orders,  their 
founders,  their  rules,  their  vows,  their  habits,  their 
revenues,  etc.  But  when  you  frequent  places  of 
public  worship,  as  I  would  have  you  go  to  all  the 
different  ones  you  meet  with,  remember  that  how- 
ever erroneous,  they  are  none  of  them  objects  of 
laughter  and  ridicule.  Honest  error  is  to  be  pitied, 
not  ridiculed.  The  object  of  all  the  public  worships 
in  the  world  is  the  same,  —  it  is  that  great  eternal 
Being  who  created  everything.  The  different  man- 
ners of  worship  are  by  no  means  subjects  of  ridicule. 
Each  sect  thinks  its  own  is  the  best,  and  I  know 
no  infallible  judge  in  this  world  to  decide  which  is 
the  best.  Make  the  same  inquiries,  wherever  you 
are,  concerning  the  revenues,  the  military  establish- 
ment, the  trade,  the  commerce,  and  the  police  of 
every  country.  And  you  would  do  well  to  keep  a 
blank- paper  book,  which  the  Germans  call  an  album  ; 
and  there,  instead  of  desiring,  as  they  do,  every  fool 
they  meet  with  to  scribble  something,  write  down  all 
these  things  as  soon  as  they  come  to  your  knowledge 
from  good  authorities. 


74       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 
XX. 

RIGHT  USE  OF  LEARNING:  ABSURDITIES  OF 
PEDANTRY. 

Bath,  Feb.  22,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  Every  excellency,  and  every  virtue, 
has  its  kindred  vice  or  weakness,  and  if  carried  be- 
yond certain  bounds  sinks  into  one  or  the  other. 
Generosity  often  runs  into  profusion,  economy  into 
avarice,  courage  into  rashness,  caution  into  timidity, 
and  so  on,  insomuch  that  I  believe  there  is  more 
judgment  required  for  the  proper  conduct  of  our 
virtues  than  for  avoiding  their  opposite  vices.  Vice 
in  its  true  light  is  so  deformed  that  it  shocks  us  at 
first  sight,  and  would  hardly  ever  seduce  us,  if  it  did 
not  at  first  wear  the  mask  of  some  virtue.  But 
virtue  is  in  itself  so  beautiful,  that  it  charms  us  at 
first  sight ;  engages  us  more  and  more  upon  further 
acquaintance  ;  and  as  with  other  beauties,  we  think 
excess  impossible.  It  is  here  that  judgment  is  neces- 
sary to  moderate  and  direct  the  effects  of  an  excel- 
lent cause.  I  shall  apply  this  reasoning  at  present 
not  to  any  particular  virtue,  but  to  an  excellency, 
which  for  want  of  judgment  is  often  the  cause  of 
ridiculous  and  blamable  effects ;  I  mean  great 
learning,  —  which  if  not  accompanied  with  sound 
judgment,  frequently  carries  us  into  error,  pride,  and 
pedantry.  As  I  hope  you  will  possess  that  excel- 
lency in  its  utmost  extent  and  yet  without  its  too 
common  failings,  the  hints  which  my  experience 
can  suggest  may  probably  not  be  useless  to  you. 


TO  HIS  SON.  75 

Some  learned  men,  proud  of  their  knowledge, 
only  speak  to  decide,  and  give  judgment  without 
appeal ;  the  consequence  of  which  is  that  mankind, 
provoked  by  the  insult  and  injured  by  the  oppres- 
sion, revolt,  and  in  order  to  shake  off  the  tyranny, 
even  call  the  lawful  authority  in  question.  The 
more  you  know  the  modester  you  should  be  ;  and 
(by  the  by)  that  modesty  is  the  surest  way  of  grati- 
fying your  vanity.  Even  where  you  are  sure,  seem 
rather  doubtful ,  represent  but  do  not  pronounce ; 
and  if  you  would  convince  others,  seem  open  to 
conviction  yourself. 

Others,  to  show  their  learning,  or  often  from  the 
prejudices  of  a  school-education,  where  they  hear  of 
nothing  else,  are  always  talking  of  the  Ancients  as 
something  more  than  men  and  of  the  Moderns  as 
something  less.  They  are  never  without  a  classic 
or  two  in  their  pockets ;  they  stick  to  the  old  good 
sense ;  they  read  none  of  the  modem  trash ;  and 
will  show  you  plainly  that  no  improvement  has  been 
made  in  any  one  art  or  science  these  last  seventeen 
hundred  years.  I  would  by  no  means  have  you  dis- 
own your  acquaintance  with  the  ancients,  but  still 
less  would  I  have  you  brag  of  an  exclusive  intimacy 
with  them.  Speak  of  the  moderns  without  contempt 
and  of  the  ancients  without  idolatry ;  judge  them  all 
by  their  merits,  but  not  by  their  ages ;  and  if  you 
happen  to  have  an  Elzevir  classic  in  your  pocket, 
neither  show  it  nor  mention  it. 

Some  great  scholars  most  absurdly  draw  all  their 
maxims,  both  for'  public  and  private  life,  from  what 
they  call  parallel  cases  in  the  ancient  authors,  with- 


']6       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

out  considering  that  in  the  first  place  there  nevei 
were,  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  two  cases 
exactly  parallel ;  and  in  the  next  place  that  there 
never  was  a  case  stated  or  even  known  by  any 
historian  with  every  one  of  its  circumstances,  which 
however  ought  to  be  known  in  order  to  be  reasoned 
from.  Reason  upon  the  case  itself  and  the  several 
circumstances  that  attend  it,  and  act  accordingly, 
but  not  from  the  authority  of  ancient  poets  or 
historians.  Take  into  your  consideration,  if  you 
please,  cases  seemingly  analogous ;  but  take  them 
as  helps  only,  not  as  guides.  We  are  really  so  pre- 
judiced by  our  education,  that,  as  the  ancients  dei- 
fied their  heroes,  we  deify  their  madmen,  —  of  which, 
with  all  due  regard  for  antiquity,  I  take  Leonidas 
and  Curtius  to  have  been  two  distinguished  ones. 
And  yet  a  solid  pedant  would,  in  a  speech  in  Parlia- 
ment relative  to  a  tax  of  two-pence  in  the  pound 
upon  some  commodity  or  other,  quote  those  two 
heroes  as  examples  of  what  we  ought  to  do  and 
suffer  for  our  country.  I  have  known  these  absurdi- 
ties carried  so  far  by  people  of  injudicious  learning 
that  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  some  of  them  were 
to  propose,  while  we  are  at  war  with  the  Gauls,  that 
a  number  of  geese  should  be  kept  in  the  Tower, 
upon  account  of  the  infinite  advantage  which  Rome 
received  in  a  parallel  case  from  a  certain  number 
of  geese  in  the  Capitol.  This  way  of  reasoning 
and  this  way  of  speaking  will  always  form  a  poor 
politician  and  a  puerile  declaimer. 

There  is  another  species  of  learned  men,  who 
though  less  dogmatical  and  supercilious,  are  not  less 


TO  HIS  SON.  77 

impertinent.  These  are  the  communicative  and 
shining  pedants  who  adorn  their  conversation,  even 
with  women,  by  happy  quotations  of  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  who  have  contracted  such  a  familiarity 
with  the  Greek  and  Roman  authors  that  they  call 
them  by  certain  names  or  epithets  denoting  inti- 
macy, —  as  old  Homer ;  that  sly  rogue  Horace  ; 
Mara,  instead  of  Virgil ;  and  Naso,  instead  of  Ovid. 
These  are  often  imitated  by  coxcombs  who  have  no 
learning  at  all,  but  who  have  got  some  names  and 
some  scraps  of  ancient  authors  by  heart,  which  they 
improperly  and  impertinently  retail  in  all  companies, 
in  hopes  of  passing  for  scholars.  If  therefore  you 
would  avoid  the  accusation  of  pedantry  on  one  hand, 
or  the  suspicion  of  ignorance  on  the  other,  abstain 
from  learned  ostentation.  Speak  the  language  of 
the  company  that  you  are  in ;  speak  it  purely,  and 
unlarded  with  any  other.  Never  seem  wiser  nor 
more  learned  than  the  people  you  are  with.  Wear 
your  learning,  like  your  watch,  in  a  private  pocket, 
and  do  not  pull  it  out  and  strike  it  merely  to  show 
that  you  have  one.  If  you  are  asked  what  o'clock 
it  is,  tell  it,  but  do  not  proclaim  it  hourly  and 
unasked,  like  the  watchman. 


XXI. 

THE  GRACES.-THE   ABSURDITY  OF   LAUGHTER. 

Bath,  March  9,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  must  from  time  to  time  remind 
you  of  what  I  have  often  recommended  to  you,  and 


yS       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

of  what  you  cannot  attend  to  too  much,  —  Sacrifice  to 
the  Graces.  The  different  effects  of  the  same  things 
said  or  done  when  accompanied  or  abandoned  by 
them,  is  almost  inconceivable.  They  prepare  the 
way  to  the  heart ;  and  the  heart  has  such  an  influ- 
ence over  the  understanding,  that  it  is  worth  while 
to  engage  it  in  our  interest.  It  is  the  whole  of 
women,  who  are  guided  by  nothing  else ;  and  it  has 
so  much  to  say  even  with  men,  and  the  ablest  men 
too,  that  it  commonly  triumphs  in  every  struggle  with 
the  understanding.  Monsieur  de  Rochefoucault, 
in  his  Maxims,  says  that  "I'esprit  est  souvent  la 
dupe  du  coeur."  If  he  had  said,  instead  oi  souvent, 
presque  toujours,  I  fear  he  would  have  been  nearer 
the  truth.  This  being  the  case,  aim  at  the  heart. 
Intrinsic  merit  alone  will  not  do.  It  will  gain  you 
the  general  esteem  of  all,  but  not  the  particular  af- 
fection, that  is,  the  heart,  of  any.  To  engage  the 
affection  of  any  particular  person,  you  must,  over 
and  above  your  general  merit,  have  some  particular 
merit  to  that  person  by  services  done  or  offered,  by 
expressions  of  regard  and  esteem,  by  complaisance, 
attentions,  etc.,  for  him  ;  and  the  graceful  manner  of 
doing  all  these  things  opens  the  way  to  the  heart, 
and  facilitates  or  rather  insures  their  effects.  From 
your  own  observation,  reflect  what  a  disagreeable 
impression  an  awkward  address,  a  slovenly  figure, 
an  ungraceful  manner  of  speaking,  —  whether  stut- 
tering, muttering,  monotony,  or  drawling,  —  an  un- 
attentive  behavior,  etc.,  make  upon  you,  at  first 
sight,  in  a  stranger,  and  how  they  prejudice  you 
against  him,  though  for  aught    you  know  he   may 


TO  HIS  SON.  79^ 

have  great  intrinsic  sense  and  merit.  And  reflect 
on  the  other  hand  how  much  the  opposites  of  all 
these  things  prepossess  you  at  first  sight  in  favor  of 
those  who  enjoy  them.  You  wish  to  find  all  good 
qualities  in  them,  and  are  in  some  degree  disap- 
pointed if  you  do  not.  A  thousand  little  things,  not 
separately  to  be  defined,  conspire  to  form  these 
graces,  this  je  ne  sais  quoi,  that  always  pleases.  A 
pretty  person,  genteel  motions,  a  proper  degree  of 
dress,  an  harmonious  voice,  something  open  and 
cheerful  in  the  countenance  but  without  laughing, 
a  distinct  and  properly  varied  manner  of  speaking,  — 
all  these  things,  and  many  others,  are  necessary  in- 
gredients in  the  composition  of  the  pleasing/^  jie 
sais  quoi,  which  everybody  feels  though  nobody  can 
describe.  Observe  carefully,  then,  what  displeases 
or  pleases  you  in  others,  and  be  persuaded  that  in 
general  the  same  things  will  please  or  displease 
them  in  you.  Having  mentioned  laughing,  I  must 
particularly  warn  you  against  it ;  and  I  could  heart- 
ily wish  that  you  may  often  be  seen  to  smile  but 
never  heard  to  laugh  while  you  live.  Frequent  and 
loud  laughter  is  the  characteristic  of  folly  and  ill 
manners ;  it  is  the  manner  in  which  the  mob  express 
their  silly  joy  at  silly  things ;  and  they  call  it  being 
merry.  Iji  my  mind,  there  is  nothing  so  illiberal 
and  so  ill  bred  as  audible  laughter.  True  wit  or 
sense  never  yet  made  anybody  laugh ;  they  are 
above  it ;  they  please  the  mind,  and  give  a  cheer- 
fulness to  the  countenance.  But  it  is  low  buffoon- 
ery or  silly  accidents  that  always  excite  laughter ; 
and   that   is   what  people  of  sense   and   breeding 


8o       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

should  show  themselves  above.  A  man's  going  to 
sit  down  in  the  supposition  that  he  has  a  chair  be- 
hind him,  and  falling  down  for  want  of  one,  sets  a 
whole  company  a-laughing,  when  all  the  wit  in  the 
world  would  noc  do  it,  —  a  plain  proof  in  my  mind 
how  low  and  unbecoming  a  thing  laughter  is,  not  to 
mention  the  disagreeable  noise  that  it  makes,  and 
the  shocking  distortion  of  the  face  that  it  occasions. 
Laughter  is  easily  restrained  by  a  very  little  reflec- 
tion ;  but  as  it  is  generally  connected  with  the  idea 
of  gayety,  people  do  not  enough  attend  to  its  absurd- 
ity. I  am  neither  of  a  melancholy  nor  a  cynical 
disposition,  and  am  as  willing  and  as  apt  to  be 
pleased  as  anybody;  but  I  am  sure  that  since  I 
have  had  the  full  use  of  my  reason,  nobody  has  ever 
heard  me  laugh.  Many  people,  at  first  from  awk- 
wardness and  mauvaise  hontc,  have  got  a  very  dis- 
agreeable and  silly  trick  of  laughing  whenever  they 
speak ;  and  I  know  a  man  of  very  good  parts,  Mr. 
Waller,  who  cannot  say  the  commonest  thing  with- 
out laughing,  which  makes  those  who  do  not  know 
him  take  him  at  first  for  a  natural  fool.  This  and 
many  other  very  disagreeable  habits  are  owing  to 
mauvaise  honte  at  their  first  setting  out  in  the  world. 
They  are  ashamed  in  company,  and  so  disconcerted 
that  they  do  not  know  what  they  do,  and  try  a  thou- 
sand tricks  to  keep  themselves  in  countenance, 
which  tricks  afterwards  grow  habitual  to  them. 
Some  scratch  their  heads,  others  twirl  their  hats  ;  in 
short,  every  awkward,  ill-bred  body  has  his  trick. 
But  the  frequency  does  not  justify  the  thing,  and  all 
these  vulgar  habits  and  awkwardnesses,  though  not 


TO  HIS  SON.  8 1 

criminal,  indeed,  are  most  carefully  to  be  guarded 
against,  as  they  are  great  bars  in  the  way  of  the  art 
of  pleasing.  Remember  that  to  please  is  almost  to 
prevail,  or  at  least  a  necessary  previous  step  to  it. 


XXII. 

DISSIMULATION  FOUND  NOT  ONLY  IN  COURTS.— 
TRITE  OBSERVATIONS. 

London,  May  lo,  1748. 

It  is  a  trite  and  commonplace  observation  that 
Courts  are  the  seat  of  falsehood  and  dissimulation. 
That,  like  many,  I  might  say  most,  commonplace 
observations,  is  false.  Falsehood  and  dissimulation 
are  certainly  to  be  found  at  courts ;  but  where  are 
they  not  to  be  found?  Cottages  have  them  as 
well  as  courts,  only  with  worse  manners.  A  couple 
of  neighboring  fanners  in  a  village  will  contrive  and 
practise  as  many  tricks  to  overreach  each  other  at 
the  next  market,  or  to  supplant  each  other  in  the 
favor  of  the  squire,  as  any  two  courtiers  can  do  to 
supplant  each  other  in  the  favor  of  their  prince. 
Whatever  poets  may  write,  or  fools  believe,  of  rural 
innocence  and  truth  and  of  the  perfidy  of  courts, 
this  is  most  undoubtedly  true,  —  that  shepherds  and 
ministers  are  both  men,  their  nature  and  passions 
the  same,  the  modes  of  them  only  different. 

Having  mentioned  commonplace  observations,  I 
will  particularly  caution  you  against  either  using,  be- 
6 


82       LETTERS  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

lieving,  or  approving  them.  They  are  the  common 
topics  of  witlings  and  coxcombs ;  those  who  really 
have  wit  have  the  utmost  contempt  for  them,  and 
scorn  even  to  laugh  at  the  pert  things  that  those 
would-be  wits  say  upon  such  subjects. 

Religion  is  one  of  their  favorite  topics.  It  is  all 
priestcraft,  and  an  invention  contrived  and  carried 
on  by  priests  of  all  religions  for  their  own  power 
and  profit.  From  this  absurd  and  fake  principle 
flow  the  commonplace  insipid  jokes  and  insults 
upon  the  clergy.  With  these  people,  every  priest, 
of  every  religion,  is  either  a  public  or  a  concealed 
unbeliever,  drunkard,  and  rake  ;  whereas  I  conceive 
that  priests  are  extremely  like  other  men,  and 
neither  the  better  nor  the  worse  for  wearing  a  gown 
or  a  surplice ;  but  if  they  are  different  from  other 
people,  probably  it  is  rather  on  the  side  of  relig- 
ion and  morality,  or  at  least  decency,  from  their 
education  and  manner  of  life. 

Another  common  topic  for  false  wit  and  cold 
raillery  is  matrimony.  Every  man  and  his  wife  hate 
each  other  cordially,  whatever  they  may  pretend 
in  public  to  the  contrary.  The  husband  certainly 
wishes  his  wife  at  the  devil,  and  the  wife  certainly 
deceives  her  husband ;  whereas  I  presume  that  men 
and  their  \vives  neither  love  nor  hate  each  other  the 
more  upon  account  of  the  form  of  matrimony  which 
has  been  said  over  them. 

These,  and  many  other  commonplace  reflections 
upon  nations,  or  professions  in  general,  —  which  are 
at  least  as  often  false  as  true, —  are  the  poor  refuge 


TO  HIS  SON.  83 

of  people  who  have  neither  wit  nor  invention  of 
their  own,  but  endeavor  to  shine  in  company  by 
second-hand  finery.  I  ahvays  put  these  pert  jacka- 
napeses out  of  countenance  by  looking  extremely 
grave  when  they  expect  that  I  should  laugh  at  their 
pleasantries ;  and  by  saying  well,  and  so^  as  if  they 
had  not  done,  and  that  the  sting  were  still  to  come. 
This  disconcerts  them,  as  they  have  no  resources  in 
themselves  and  have  but  one  set  of  jokes  to  live 
upon. 


XXIII. 

AN  AWKWARD   MAN  AT  COURT.  —  WELL-BRED  EASE. 

London,  May  17,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  received  yesterday  your  letter  of 
the  1 6th,  N.  s.,  and  have  in  consequence  of  it  writ- 
ten this  day  to  Sir  Charles  Williams  to  thank  him 
for  all  the  civilities  he  has  shown  you.  Your  first 
setting  out  at  court  has,  I  find,  been  very  favor- 
able, and  his  Polish  Majesty  has  distinguished  you. 
I  hope  you  received  that  mark  of  distinction  with 
respect  and  with  steadiness,  which  is  the  proper  be- 
havior of  a  man  of  fashion.  People  of  a  low, 
obscure  education  cannot  stand  the  rays  of  great- 
ness ;  they  are  frightened  out  of  their  wits  when 
kings  and  great  men  speak  to  them ;  they  are  awk- 
ward, ashamed,  and  do  not  know  what  or  how  to 
answer ;  whereas,  les  honnites  gens  are  not  dazzled 


84       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

by  superior  rank ;  they  know  and  pay  all  the  re- 
spect that  is  due  to  it ;  but  they  do  it  without  being 
disconcerted,  and  can  converse  just  as  easily  with  a 
king  as  with  any  one  of  his  subjects.  That  is  the 
great  advantage  of  being  introduced  young  into 
good  company,  and  being  used  early  to  converse 
with  one's  superiors.  How  many  men  have  I  seen 
here,  who,  after  having  had  the  full  benefit  of  an 
English  education,  first  at  school  and  then  at  the 
university,  when  they  have  been  presented  to  the 
king  did  not  know  whether  they  stood  upon  their 
heads  or  their  heels  !  If  the  king  spoke  to  them, 
they  were  annihilated ;  they  trembled,  endeavored 
to  put  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  and  missed 
them ;  let  their  hats  fall  and  were  ashamed  to  take 
them  up ;  and  in  short,  put  themselves  in  every 
attitude  but  the  right,  that  is,  the  easy  and  natural 
one.  The  characteristic  of  a  well-bred  man  is  to 
converse  with  his  inferiors  without  insolence,  and 
with  his  superiors  with  respect  and  ease.  He  talks 
to  kings  without  concern ;  he  trifles  with  women  of 
the  first  condition  with  familiarity,  gayety,  but  re- 
spect ;  and  converses  with  his  equals  whether  he  is 
acquainted  with  them  or  not,  upon  general  common 
topics  that  are  not  however  quite  frivolous,  without 
the  least  concern  of  mind  or  awkwardness  of  body, 
neither  of  which  can  appear  to  advantage  but  when 
they  are  perfectly  easy. 


TO  H/S  SON.  85 


XXIV. 

THE  LAZY  MIND  AND  THE   FRIVOLOUS   MIND. 

London,  July  26,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  There  are  two  sorts  of  understand- 
ings, one  of  which  hinders  a  man  from  ever  being 
considerable,  and  the  other  commonly  makes  him 
ridiculous,  —  I  mean  the  lazy  mind  and  the  trifling, 
frivolous  mind.  Yours  I  hope  is  neither.  The 
lazy  mind  will  not  take  the  trouble  of  going  to 
the  bottom  of  anything,  but  discouraged  by  the 
first  difficulties  (and  everything  worth  knowing  or 
having  is  attained  with  some),  stops  short,  contents 
itself  with  easy  and  consequently  superficial  knowl- 
edge, and  prefers  a  great  degree  of  ignorance  to  a 
small  degree  of  trouble.  These  people  either  think 
or  represent  most  things  as  impossible,  whereas 
few  things  are  so  to  industry  and  activity.  But 
difficulties  seem  to  them  impossibilities,  or  at  least 
they  pretend  to  think  them  so  by  way  of  excuse  for 
their  laziness.  An  hour's  attention  to  the  same 
subject  is  too  laborious  for  them  ;  they  take  every- 
thing in  the  light  in  which  it  first  presents  itself, 
never  consider  it  in  all  its  different  views,  and  in 
short  never  think  it  thorough.  The  consequence 
of  this  is  that  when  they  come  to  speak  upon 
these  subjects  before  people  who  have  considered 
them  with  attention,  they  only  discover  their  own 
ignorance  and  laziness,  and  lay  themselves  open  to 
answers  that  put  them  in  confusion.     Do  not  then 


86       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

be  discouraged  by  the  first  difficulties,  but  contra 
audentior  ito ;  and  resolve  to  go  to  the  bottom  of 
all  those  things  which  every  gentleman  ought  to 
know  well.  Those  arts  or  sciences  which  are 
peculiar  to  certain  professions  need  not  be  deeply 
known  by  those  who  are  not  intended  for  those 
professions ;  as,  for  instance,  fortification  and 
navigation  ;  of  both  which,  a  superficial  and  general 
knowledge  such  as  the  common  course  of  conversa- 
tion with  a  very  little  inquiry  on  your  part  will 
give  you,  is  sufficient.  Though,  by  the  way,  a  little 
more  knowledge  of  fortification  may  be  of  some  use 
to  you,  as  the  events  of  war  in  sieges  make  many 
of  the  terms  of  that  science  occur  frequently  m 
common  conversation ;  and  one  would  be  sorry  to 
say,  like  the  Marquis  de  Mascarille  in  Moli^re's 
"  Pr^cieuses  Ridicules,"  when  he  hears  of  tine  demie 
lune,  "  Ma  foi  !  c'etoit  bien  une  lune  toute  enti^re." 
But  those  things  which  every  gentleman,  indepen- 
dently of  profession,  should  know,  he  ought  to 
know  well,  and  dive  into  all  the  depth  of  them. 
Such  are  languages,  history,  and  geography,  ancient 
and  modern,  philosophy,  rational  logic,  rhetoric ; 
and  for  you  particularly,  the  constitutions,  and  the 
civil  and  military  state  of  every  country  in  Europe. 
This,  I  confess,  is  a  pretty  large  circle  of  knowledge, 
attended  with  some  difficulties,  and  requiring  some 
trouble ;  which,  however,  an  active  and  industrious 
mind  will  overcome,  and  be  amply  repaid.  The 
trifling  and  frivolous  mind  is  always  busied,  but  to 
little  purpose ;  it  takes  little  objects  for  great  ones, 
and  throws  away  upon  trifles  that  time  and  atten- 


TO  HIS  SON.  8y 

tion  which  only  important  things  deserve.  Knick- 
knacks,  butterflies,  shells,  insects,  etc.,  are  the 
subjects  of  their  most  serious  researches.  They 
contemplate  the  dress,  not  the  characters,  of  the 
company  they  keep.  They  attend  more  to  the 
decorations  of  a  play  than  to  the  sense  of  it,  and  to 
the  ceremonies  of  a  court  more  than  to  its  politics. 
Such  an  employment  of  time  is  an  absolute  loss  of 
it.  You  have  now,  at  most,  three  years  to  employ, 
either  well  or  ill ;  for  as  I  have  often  told  you,  you 
will  be  all  your  life  what  you  shall  be  three  years 
hence.  For  God's  sake  then  reflect.  Will  you 
throw  this  time  away  either  in  laziness  or  in  trifles ; 
or  will  you  not  rather  employ  every  moment  of  it 
in  a  manner  that  must  so  soon  reward  you  with  so 
much  pleasure,  figure,  and  character?  I  cannot,  I 
will  not,  doubt  of  your  choice.  Read  only  useful 
books ;  and  never  quit  a  subject  till  you  are  thor- 
oughly master  of  it,  but  read  and  inquire  on  till 
then.  When  you  are  in  company,  bring  the  con- 
versation to  some  useful  subject,  but  a  portie  of  that 
company.  Points  of  history,  matters  of  literature, 
the  customs  of  particular  countries,  the  several 
orders  of  knighthood,  as  Teutonic,  Maltese,  etc.,  are 
surely  better  subjects  of  conversation  than  the 
weather,  dress,  or  fiddle-faddle  stories  that  carry  no 
information  along  with  them.  The  characters  of 
kings  and  great  men  are  only  to  be  learned  in 
conversation;  for  they  are  never  fairly  written 
during  their  lives.  This  therefore  is  an  entertain- 
ing and  instructive  subject  of  conversation,  and 
will  likewise  give  you  an  opportunity  of  observing 


88       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

how  very  differently  characters  are  given  from  the 
different  passions  and  views  of  those  who  give  them. 
Never  be  ashamed  nor  afraid  of  asking  questions ; 
for  if  they  lead  to  information,  and  if  you  accom- 
pany them  with  some  excuse,  you  will  never  be 
reckoned  an  impertinent  or  rude  questioner.  All 
those  things,  in  the  common  course  of  life,  depend 
entirely  upon  the  manner;  and  in  that  respect  the 
vulgar  saying  is  true,  "That  one  man  can  better 
steal  a  horse  than  another  look  over  the  hedge." 
There  are  few  things  that  may  not  be  said  in 
some  manner  or  other ;  either  in  a  seeming  confi- 
dence, or  a  genteel  irony,  or  introduced  with  wit ; 
and  one  great  part  of  the  knowledge  of  the  world 
consists  in  knowing  when  and  where  to  make  use  of 
these  different  manners.  The  graces  of  the  person, 
the  countenance,  and  the  way  of  speaking  con- 
tribute so  much  to  this,  that  I  am  convinced  the 
very  same  thing  said  by  a  genteel  person  in  an 
engaging  way,  and  gracefully  and  distinctly  spoken, 
would  please,  which  would  shock,  if  muttered  out 
by  an  awkward  figure  with  a  sullen,  serious  counte- 
nance. The  poets  always  represent  Venus  as  at- 
tended by  the  three  Graces,  to  intimate  that  even 
beauty  will  not  do  without.  I  think  they  should 
have  given  Minerva  three  also,  for  without  them  I 
am  sure  learning  is  very  unattractive.  Invoke  them 
then,  distinctly,  to  accompany  all  your  words  and 
motions.     Adieu. 


TO  HIS  SON.  89 

XXV. 
HOW   HISTORY  SHOULD  BE  READ. 

London,  Atig.  30,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  Your  reflections  upon  the  conduct 
of  France  from  the  treaty  of  Miinster  to  this  time 
are  very  just ;  and  I  am  very  glad  to  find  by  them, 
that  you  not  only  read,  but  that  you  think  and  re- 
flect upon  what  you  read.  Many  great  readers  load 
their  memories  without  exercising  their  judgments, 
and  make  lumber-rooms  of  their  heads  instead  of 
furnishing  them  usefully;  facts  are  heaped  upon 
facts  without  order  or  distinction,  and  may  justly  be 
said  to  compose  that 

" Rudis  indigestaque  moles 

Quam  dixere  chaos." 

Go  on,  then,  in  the  way  of  reading  that  you  are  in ; 
take  nothing  for  granted  upon  the  bare  authority  of 
the  author,  but  weigh  and  consider  in  your  own 
mmd  the  probability  of  the  facts  and  the  justness 
of  the  reflections.  Consult  different  authors  upon 
the  same  facts,  and  form  your  opinion  upon  the 
greater  or  lesser  degree  of  probability  arising  from 
the  whole,  —  which  in  my  mind  is  the  utmost  stretch 
of  historical  faith,  certainty  (I  fear)  not  being  to 
be  found.  When  a  historian  pretends  to  give  you 
the  causes  and  motives  of  events,  compare  those 
causes  and  motives  with  the  characters  and  interests 
of  the  parties  concerned,  and  judge  for  yourself 
whether  they  correspond  or  not.  Consider  whether 
you  cannot  assign  others  more  probable ;   and  in 


90       LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

that  examination  do  not  despise  some  very  mean 
and  trifling  causes  of  the  actions  of  great  men ;  for 
so  various  and  inconsistent  is  human  nature,  so 
strong  and  so  changeable  are  our  passions,  so  fluc- 
tuating are  our  wills,  and  so  much  are  our  minds 
influenced  by  the  accidents  of  our  bodies,  that  every 
man  is  more  the  man  of  the  day  than  a  regular  con- 
sequential character.  The  best  have  something  bad, 
and  something  little ;  the  worst  have  something 
good,  and  sometimes  something  great,  —  for  I  do  not 
believe  what  Velleius  Paterculus  (for  the  sake  of 
saying  a  pretty  thing)  says  of  Scipio,  "  Qui  nihil  non 
laudandum  aut  fecit,  aut  dixit,  aut  sensit."  As  for 
the  reflections  of  historians  with  which  they  think 
it  necessary  to  interlard  their  histories  or  at  least  to 
conclude  their  chapters,  —  and  which  in  the  French 
histories  are  always  introduced  with  a  tant  il  est 
vrai,  and  in  the  English,  so  true  it  is,  —  do  not 
adopt  them  implicitly  upon  the  credit  of  the  author, 
but  analyze  them  yourself,  and  judge  whether  they 
are  true  or  not. 


XXVI. 

GENERAL  CHARACTER  OF  WOMEN.  —  RIGHT  USE 
OF  WIT. 

London,  Sept.  5,  o.  s.  1748. 

As  women  are  a  considerable  or  at  least  a  pretty 
numerous  part  of  company,  and  as  their  suffrages  go 


TO  HIS  SON.  9 1 

a  great  way  towards  establishing  a  man's  character 
in  the  fashionable  part  of  the  world,  —  which  is  of 
great  importance  to  the  fortune  and  figure  he  pro- 
poses to  make  in  it,  —  it  is  necessary  to  please  them. 
I  will  therefore  upon  this  subject  let  you  into  cer- 
tain arcatia,  that  will  be  very  useful  for  you  to 
know,  but  which  you  must  with  the  utmost  care 
conceal,  and  never  seem  to  know.  Women  then 
are  only  children  of  a  larger  growth ;  they  have  an 
entertaining  tattle  and  sometimes  wit,  but  for  solid, 
reasoning  good-sense,  I  never  knew  in  my  life  one 
that  had  it,  or  who  reasoned  or  acted  consequen- 
tially for  four-and-twenty  hours  together.  Some 
little  passion  or  humor  always  breaks  in  upon  their 
best  resolutions.  Their  beauty  neglected  or  con- 
troverted, their  age  increased,  or  their  supposed 
understandings  depreciated  instantly  kindles  their 
little  passions,  and  overturns  any  system  of  conse- 
quential conduct  that  in  their  most  reasonable  mo- 
ments they  might  have  been  capable  of  forming.  A 
man  of  sense  only  trifles  with  them,  plays  with 
them,  humors  and  flatters  them,  as  he  does  with  a 
sprightly,  forward  child ;  but  he  neither  consults 
them  about  nor  trusts  them  with  serious  matters, 
though  he  often  makes  them  believe  that  he  does 
both,  which  is  the  thing  in  the  world  that  they  are 
proud  of;  for  they  love  mightily  to  be  dabbling  in 
business,  —  which,  by  the  way,  they  always  spoil,  — 
and  being  justly  distrustful  that  men  in  general  look 
upon  them  in  a  trifling  light,  they  almost  adore  that 
man  who  talks  more  seriously  to  them,  and  who 
seems  to  consult  and  trust  them  :  I  say,  who  seems ; 


92       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

for  weak  men  really  do,  but  wise  ones  only  seem  to 
do  it.  No  flattery  is  either  too  high  or  too  low  for 
them ;  they  will  greedily  swallow  the  highest  and 
gratefully  accept  of  the  lowest ;  and  you  may  safely 
flatter  any  woman  from  her  understanding  down  to 
the  exquisite  taste  of  her  fan.  Women  who  are 
either  indisputably  beautiful  or  indisputably  ugly 
are  best  flattered  upon  the  score  of  their  under- 
standings ;  but  those  who  are  in  a  state  of  medioc- 
rity are  best  flattered  upon  their  beauty,  or  at  least 
their  graces,  for  every  woman  who  is  not  abso- 
lutely ugly  thinks  herself  handsome  ;  but  not  hearing 
often  that  she  is  so  is  the  more  grateful  and  the 
more  obliged  to  the  few  who  tell  her  so ;  whereas 
a  decided  and  conscious  beauty  looks  upon  every 
tribute  paid  to  her  beauty  only  as  her  due,  but 
wants  to  shine  and  to  be  considered  on  the  side  of 
her  understanding ;  and  a  woman  who  is  ugly  enough 
to  know  that  she  is  so,  knows  that  she  has  nothing 
left  for  it  but  her  understanding,  which  is  conse- 
quently —  and  probably  in  more  senses  than  one  — 
her  weak  side.  But  these  are  secrets  which  you 
must  keep  inviolably,  if  you  would  not  like  Orpheus 
be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  whole  sex ;  on  the  contrary, 
a  man  who  thinks  of  living  in  the  great  world  must 
be  gallant,  polite,  and  attentive  to  please  the  women. 
They  have  from  the  weakness  of  men  more  or  less 
influence  in  all  courts ;  they  absolutely  stamp  every 
man's  character  in  the  beau  monde  and  make  it 
either  current,  or  cry  it  down  and  stop  it  in 
payments.  It  is  therefore  absolutely  necessary  to 
manage,  please,  and  flatter  them,  and  never  to  dis- 


TO  HIS  SON.  93 

cover  the  least  marks  of  contempt,  which  is  what 
they  never  forgive  ;  but  in  this  they  are  not  singular, 
for  it  is  the  same  with  men,  who  will  much  sooner 
forgive  an  injustice  than  an  insult.     Every  man  is 
not   ambitious,   or  courteous,   or   passionate ;    but 
every  man  has  pride  enough  in  his  composition  to 
feel  and  resent  the  least  slight  and  contempt.     Re- 
member  therefore  most  carefully  to  conceal  your 
contempt,   however  just,  wherever  you  would   not 
make  an  implacable  enemy.     Men  are  much  more 
unwilling  to  have  their  weaknesses  and  their  imper- 
fections known  than  their  crimes ;   and  if  you  hint 
to  a  man  that  you  think  him  silly,  ignorant,  or  even 
ill  bred  or  awkward,  he  will  hate  you   more  and 
longer  than  if  you  tell  him  plainly  that  you  think 
him  a  rogue.     Never  yield  to  that  temptation,  which 
to  most  young  men  is  very  strong,  of  exposing  other 
people's   weaknesses   and   infirmities    for   the    sake 
either  of  diverting   the   company  or  showing  your 
own  superiority.     You  may  get  the  laugh  on  your 
side  by  it  for  the  present,  but  you  will  make  enemies 
by  it  forever ;   and  even  those  who  laugh  with  you 
then  will    upon   reflection    fear,    and    consequently 
hate  you  ;  besides  that,  it  is  ill-natured,  and  a  good 
heart  desires  rather  to  conceal  than  expose  other 
people's  weaknesses  or  misfortunes.     If  you    have 
wit,  use   it  to  please  and  not   to  hurt;    you   may 
shine  like  the  sun  in  the  temperate  zones  without 
scorching.     Here  it  is  wished  for ;  under  the  line  it 
is  dreaded. 

These  are  some  of  the  hints  which  my  long  ex- 
perience in  the  great  world  enables  me  to  give  you, 


94       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  which  if  you  attend  to  them  may  prove  useful 
to  you  in  your  journey  through  it.  I  wish  it  may 
be  a  prosperous  one ;  at  least  I  am  sure  that  it  must 
be  your  own  fault  if  it  is  not. 


XXVII. 

OUR  TENDENCY  TO  EXALT  THE  PAST.  —  ON  SECRETS. 

London,  Sept.  13,  o.  s.  1748. 

Another  very  just  observation  of  the  Cardinal's  ^  is, 
that  the  things  which  happen  in  our  own  times  and 
which  we  see  ourselves  do  not  surprise  us  near  so 
much  as  the  things  which  we  read  of  in  times  past, 
though  not  in  the  least  more  extraordinary ;  and 
adds  that  he  is  persuaded  that  when  Caligula  made 
his  horse  a  consul,  the  people  of  Rome  at  that  time 
were  not  greatly  surprised  at  it,  having  necessarily 
been  in  some  degree  prepared  for  it  by  an  insensible 
gradation  of  extravagances  from  the  same  quarter. 
This  is  so  true,  that  we  read  every  day  with  astonish- 
ment things  which  we  see  every  day  without  surprise. 
We  wonder  at  the  intrepidity  of  a  Leonidas,  a  Codrus, 
and  a  Curtius ;  and  are  not  the  least  surprised  to 
hear  of  a  sea-captain  who  has  blown  up  his  ship,  his 
crew,  and  himself,  that  they  might  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemies  of  his  country.  I  cannot  help 
reading  of  Porsenna  and  Regulus  with  surprise  and 
reverence ;  and  yet  I  remember  that  I  saw  without 

1  The  Cardinal  De  Retz. 


TO  HIS  SON.  95 

either  the  execution  of  Shepherd,^  a  boy  of  eighteen 
years  old,  who  intended  to  shoot  the  late  king,  and 
who  would  have  been  pardoned  if  he  would  have  ex- 
pressed the  least  sorrow  for  his  intended  crime ;  but 
on  the  contrary  he  declared  that  if  he  was  pardoned 
he  would  attempt  it  again  ;  that  he  thought  it  a  duty 
which  he  owed  to  his  country ;  and  that  he  died  with 
pleasure  for  having  endeavored  to  perform  it.  Reason 
equals  Shepherd  to  Regulus )  but  prejudice  and  the 
recency  of  the  fact  make  Shepherd  a  common  male- 
factor and  Regulus  a  hero. 

The  last  observation  that  I  shall  now  mention  of' 
the  Cardinal's  is  "  That  a  secret  is  more  easily  kept 
by  a  good  many  people  than  one  commonly  im- 
agines." By  this  he  means  a  secret  of  importance 
among  people  interested  in  the  keeping  of  it ;  and 
it  is  certain  that  people  of  business  know  the  impor- 
tance of  secrecy,  and  will  observe  it  where  they  are 
concerned  in  the  event.  To  go  and  tell  any  friend, 
wife,  or  mistress  any  secret  with  which  they  have 
nothing  to  do,  is  discovering  to  them  such  an  unre- 
tentive  weakness  as  must  convince  them  that  you 
will  tell  it  to  twenty  others,  and  consequently  that 
they  may  reveal  it  without  the  risk  of  being  dis- 
covered. But  a  secret  properly  communicated  only 
to  those  who  are  to  be  concerned  in  the  thing  in 
question  will  probably  be  kept  by  them,  though  they 

1  James  Shepherd,  a  coach-painter's  apprentice,  was  exe- 
cuted at  Tyburn  for  high  treason,  March  17,  1718,  in  the 
reign  of  George  the  First. 


96       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

should  be  a  good  many.  Little  secrets  are  com- 
monly told  again,  but  great  ones  are  generally  kept. 
Adieu  ! 


XXVIII. 

AGAINST  THE  REFINEMENTS  OF  CASUISTRY. 

London,  Sept.  27,  o.  s.  1748. 

Pray  let  no  quibbles  of  lawyers,  no  refinements  of 
casuists,  break  into  the  plain  notions  of  right  and 
wrong  which  every  man's  right  reason  and  plain 
common-sense  suggest  to  him.  To  do  as  you  would 
be  done  by  is  the  plain,  sure,  and  undisputed  rule 
of  morality  and  justice.  Stick  to  that ;  and  be  con- 
vinced that  whatever  breaks  into  it  in  any  degree, 
however  speciously  it  may  be  turned,  and  however 
puzzling  it  may  be  to  answer  it,  is  notwithstanding 
false  in  itself,  unjust,  and  criminal.  I  do  not  know 
a  crime  in  the  world  which  is  not  by  the  casuists 
among  the  Jesuits  (especially  the  twenty-four  col- 
lected, I  think,  by  Escobar)  allowed  in  some  or 
many  cases  not  to  be  criminal.  The  principles  first 
laid  down  by  them  are  often  specious,  the  reasonings 
plausible,  but  the  conclusion  always  a  lie  ;  for  it  is 
contrary  to  that  evident  and  undeniable  rule  of  justice 
which  I  have  mentioned  above,  of  not  doing  to  any 
one  what  you  would  not  have  him  do  to  you.  But, 
however,  these  refined  pieces  of  casuistry  and  sophis- 
try being  very  convenient  and  welcome  to  people's 
passions  and  appetites,  they  gladly  accept  the  indul- 


TO  HIS  SON. 


97 


gence  without  desiring  to  detect  the  fallacy  of  the 
reasoning :  and  indeed  many,  I  might  say  most  peo- 
ple, are  not  able  to  do  it,  —  which  makes  the  publica- 
tion of  such  quibblings  and  refinements  the  more 
pernicious.     I  am  no  skilful  casuist  nor  subtle  dis- 
putant ;   and  yet  I  would  undertake  to  justify  and 
qualify  the  profession  of  a  highwayman,  step  by  step, 
and  so  plausibly  as  to  make  many  ignorant  people  em- 
brace the  profession  as  an  innocent  if  not  even  a  laud- 
able one,  and  to  puzzle  people  of  some  degree  of 
knowledge  to  answer  me   point   by  point.     I  have 
seen  a  book,  entitled  "  Quidlibet  ex  Quolibet,"  or  the 
art  of  making  anything  out  of  anything ;   which  is 
not  so  difficult  as  it  would  seem,  if  once  one  quits 
certain  plain  truths,  obvious  in  gross  to  every  un- 
derstanding,  in  order   to   run   after   the    ingenious 
refinements  of  warm  imaginations  and  speculative 
reasonings.     Doctor  Berkeley,  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  a 
very  worthy,  ingenious,  and  "learned  man,  has  written 
a  book  to  prove  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  matter, 
and  that  nothing  exists  but  in  idea ;  that  you  and  I 
only  fancy  ourselves  eating,  drinking,  and  sleeping, 
you  at  Leipsic,  and  I  at  London ;  that  we  think  we 
have  flesh  and  blood,  legs,  arms,  etc.,  but  that  we 
are  only  spirit.     His  arguments  are  strictly  speaking 
unanswerable ;  but  yet  I  am  so  far  from  being  con- 
vinced by  them  that  I  am  determined  to  go  on  to 
eat  and  drink,  and  walk  and  ride,  in  order  to  keep 
that  matter,  which  I  so  mistakenly  imagine  my  body 
at  present  to  consist  of,  in  as  good  plight  as  possi- 
ble.    Common-sense   (which   in   truth    is  very  im 
common)  is  the  best  sense  I  know  of.     Abide  by  it ; 
7  ■ 


98       LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

it  will  counsel  you  best.  Read  and  hear  for  your 
amusement  ingenious  systems,  nice  questions  sub- 
tilely  agitated,  with  all  the  refinements  that  warm 
imaginations  suggest ;  but  consider  them  only  as  ex- 
ercitations  for  the  mind,  and  return  always  to  settle 
with  common-sense. 


XXIX. 

TRUE  GOOD  COMPANY  DEFINED. 

October  12,  o.  s.  1748. 

To  keep  good  company,  especially  at  your  first 
setting  out,  is  the  way  to  receive  good  impressions. 
If  you  ask  me  what  I  mean  by  good  company,  I 
will  confess  to  you  that  it  is  pretty  difficult  to 
define ;  but  I  will  endeavor  to  make  you  understand 
it  as  well  as  I  can. 

Good  company  is  not  what  respective  sets  of 
company  are  pleased  either  to  call  or  think  them- 
selves, but  it  is  that  company  which  all  the  people 
of  the  place  call,  and  acknowledge  to  be,  good  com- 
pany, notwithstanding  some  objections  which  they 
may  form  to  some  of  the  individuals  who  compose 
it.  It  consists  chiefly  (but  by  no  means  without  ex- 
ception) of  people  of  considerable  birth,  rank,  and 
character ;  for  people  of  neither  birth  nor  rank  are 
frequently  and  very  justly  admitted  into  it,  if  dis- 
tinguished by  any  peculiar  merit,  or  eminency  in 
any  liberal  art  or  science.     Nay,  so  motley  a  thing 


TO  HIS  SON.  99 

is  good  company  that  many  people  without  birth, 
rank,  or  merit  intrude  into  it  by  their  own  forward- 
ness, and  others  slide  into  it  by  the  protection  of 
some  considerable  person ;  and  some  even  of  indif- 
ferent characters  and  morals  make  part  of  it.  But 
in  the  main,  the  good  part  preponderates,  and  people 
of  infamous  and  blasted  characters  are  never  ad- 
mitted. In  this  fashionable  good  company,  the  best 
manners  and  the  best  language  of  the  place  are  most 
unquestionably  to  be  learnt ;  for  they  establish  and 
give  the  tone  to  both,  which  are  therefore  called 
the  language  and  manners  of  good  company,  there 
being  no  legal  tribunal  to  ascertain  either. 

A  company  consisting  wholly  of  people  of  the 
first  quality  cannot  for  that  reason  be  called  good 
company,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  phrase, 
unless  they  are  into  the  bargain  the  fashionable 
and  accredited  company  of  the  place ;  for  people 
of  the  very  first  quality  can  be  as  silly,  as  ill  bred, 
and  as  worthless  as  people  of  the  meanest  degree. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  company  consisting  entirely 
of  people  of  very  low  condition,  whatever  their 
merit  or  parts  may  be,  can  never  be  called  good 
company;  and  consequently  should  not  be  much 
frequented,  though  by  no  means  despised. 

A  company  wholly  composed  of  men  of  learning, 
though  greatly  to  be  valued  and  respected,  is  not 
meant  by  the  words  "  good  company ;  "  they  cannot 
have  the  easy  manners  and  tournure  of  the  world, 
as  they  do  not  live  in  it.  If  you  can  bear  your  part 
well  in  such  a  company,  it  is  extremely  right  to  be 
in  it  sometimes,  and  you  will  be  but  more  esteemed 


100    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFLELD 

in  other  companies  for  having  a  place  in  that.  But 
then  do  not  let  it  engross  you ;  for  if  you  do,  you 
will  be  only  considered  as  one  of  the  literati  by 
profession,  which  is  not  the  way  either  to  shine  or 
rise  in  the  world. 

The  company  of  professed  wits  and  poets  is 
extremely  inviting  to  most  young  men,  who  if  they 
have  wit  themselves,  are  pleased  with  it,  and  if  they 
have  none,  are  sillily  proud  of  being  one  of  it ;  but 
it  should  be  frequented  with  moderation  and  judg- 
ment, and  you  should  by  no  means  give  yourself  up 
to  it.  A  wit  is  a  very  unpopular  denomination,  as 
it  carries  terror  along  with  it ;  and  people  in  general 
are  as  much  afraid  of  a  live  wit  in  company  as  a 
woman  is  of  a  gun,  which  she  thinks  may  go  off  of 
itself  and  do  her  a  mischief  Their  acquaintance 
is  however  worth  seeking,  and  their  company 
worth  frequenting;  but  not  exclusively  of  others, 
nor  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  considered  only  as 
one  of  that  particular  set. 

But  the  company  which  of  all  others  you  should 
most  carefully  avoid  is  that  low  company  which  in 
every  sense  of  the  word  is  low  indeed,  —  low  in 
rank,  low  in  parts,  low  in  manners,  and  low  in 
merit.  You  will  perhaps  be  surprised  that  I  should 
think  it  necessary  to  warn  you  against  such  com- 
pany, but  yet  I  do  not  think  it  wholly  unnecessary 
from  the  many  instances  which  I  have  seen  of  men 
of  sense  and  rank  discredited,  vilified,  and  undone 
by  keeping  such  company.  Vanity,  that  source  of 
many  of  our  follies  and  of  some  of  our  crimes,  has 
sunk   many  a   man   into   company   in    every   light 


TO  HIS  SON.  lOI 

infinitely  below  himself,  for  the  sake  of  being  the 
first  man  in  it.  There  he  dictates,  is  applauded,  ad- 
mired ;  and  for  the  sake  of  being  the  CoryphcEus  of 
that  wretched  chorus,  disgraces  and  disqualifies  him- 
self soon  for  any  better  company.  Depend  upon 
it,  you  will  sink  or  rise  to  the  level  of  the  company 
which  you  commonly  keep  ;  people  will  judge  of 
you,  and  not  unreasonably,  by  that.  There  is  good 
sense  in  the  Spanish  saying,  "  Tell  me  whom  you 
live  with,  and  I  will  tell  you  who  you  are."  Make 
it  therefore  your  business,  wherever  you  are,  to  get 
into  that  company  which  everybody  in  the  place 
allows  to  be  the  best  company  next  to  their  own ; 
which  is  the  best  definition  that  I  can  give  you  of 
good  company.  But  here,  too,  one  caution  is  very 
necessary,  for  want  of  which  many  young  men 
have  been  ruined,  even  in  good  company.  Good 
company  (as  I  have  before  observed)  is  composed 
of  a  great  variety  of  fashionable  people,  whose 
characters  and  morals  are  very  different,  though 
their  manners  are  pretty  much  the  same.  When  a 
young  man,  new  in  the  world,  first  gets  into  that 
company,  he  very  rightly  determines  to  conform  to 
and  imitate  it.  But  then  he  too  often  and  fatally 
mistakes  the  objects  of  his  imitation.  He  has  often 
heard  that  absurd  term  of  "  genteel  and  fashionable 
vices."  He  there  sees  some  people  who  shine  and 
who  in  general  are  admired  and  esteemed,  and 
observes  that  these  people  are  .  .  .  drunkards  or 
gamesters,  upon  which  he  adopts  their  vices,  mis- 
taking their  defects  for  their  perfections,  and  think- 
ing that  they  owe  their  fashion  and  their  lustre  to 


I02     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

those  genteel  vices.  Whereas  it  is  exactly  the 
reverse ;  for  these  people  have  acquired  their  repu- 
tation by  their  parts,  their  learning,  their  good 
breeding,  and  other  accomplishments,  and  are 
only  blemished  and  lowered,  in  the  opinions  of  all 
reasonable  people,  and  of  their  own  in  time,  by 
these  genteel  and  fashionable  vices. 


XXX. 

CONDUCT  IN  GOOD  COMPANY.  — ON  MIMICRY. 

Bath,  Oct.  19,  o.  s.  1748. 

Dear  Boy,  —  Having  in  my  last  pointed  out  what 
sort  of  company  you  should  keep,  I  will  now  give 
you  some  rules  for  your  conduct  in  it,  —  rules  which 
my  own  experience  and  observation  enable  me  to 
lay  down  and  communicate  to  you  with  some  degree 
of  confidence.  I  have  often  given  you  hints  of  this 
kind  before,  but  then  it  has  been  by  snatches;  I 
will  now  be  more  regular  and  methodical.  I  shall 
say  nothing  with  regard  to  your  bodily  carriage 
and  address,  but  leave  them  to  the  care  of  your 
dancing- master  and  to  your  own  attention  to  the 
best  models ;  remember,  however,  that  they  are  of 
consequence. 

Talk  often,  but  never  long ;  in  that  case,  if  you  do 
not  please,  at  least  you  are  sure  not  to  tire  your 
hearers.  Pay  your  own  reckoning,  but  do  not  treat 
the  whole  company,  —  this  being  one  of  the  very 
few  cases  in  which  people  do  not  care  to  be  treated, 


TO  HIS  son:  103 

every  one  being  fiilly  convinced  that  he  has  where- 
withal to  pay. 

Tell  stories  very  seldom,  and  absolutely  never  but 
where  they  are  very  apt  and  very  short.  Omit  every 
circumstance  that  is  not  material,  and  beware  of 
digressions.  To  have  frequent  recourse  to  narrative 
betrays  great  want  of  imagination. 

Never  hold  anybody  by  the  button  or  the  hand 
in  order  to  be  heard  out ;  for  if  people  are  not 
willing  to  hear  you,  you  had  much  better  hold  your 
tongue  than  them. 

Most  long  talkers  single  out  some  one  unfortunate 
man  in  company  (commonly  him  whom  they  ob- 
serve to  be  the  most  silent,  or  their  next  neighbor) 
to  whisper,  or  at  least  in  a  half  voice  to  convey  a 
continuity  of  words  to.  This  is  excessively  ill  bred, 
and  in  some  degree  a  fraud,  —  conversation- stock 
being  a  joint  and  common  property.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  if  one  of  these  unmerciful  talkers  lays 
hold  of  you,  hear  him  with  patience,  and  at  least 
seeming  attention,  if  he  is  worth  obliging,  —  for 
nothing  will  oblige  him  more  than  a  patient  hearing, 
as  nothing  would  hurt  him  more  than  either  to  leave 
him  in  the  midst  of  his  discourse,  or  to  discover 
your  impatience  under  your  affliction. 

Take,  rather  than  give,  the  tone  of  the  company 
you  are  in.  If  you  have  parts,  you  will  show  them 
more  or  less  upon  every  subject ;  and  if  you  have 
not,  you  had  better  talk  sillily  upon  a  subject  of  other 
people's  than  of  your  own  choosing. 

Avoid  as  much  as  you  can,  in  mixed  compan- 
ies, argumentative,  polemical  conversations,  —  which 


104    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

though  they  should  not,  yet  certainly  do,  indispose 
for  a  time  the  contending  parties  toward  each  other ; 
and  if  the  controversy  grows  warm  and  noisy,  en- 
deavor to  put  an  end  to  it  by  some  genteel  levity 
or  joke.  I  quieted  such  a  conversation-hubbub  once 
by  representing  to  them  that  though  I  was  persuaded 
none  there  present  would  repeat  out  of  company 
what  passed  in  it,  yet  I  could  not  answer  for  the 
discretion  of  the  passengers  in  the  street,  who  must 
necessarily  hear  all  that  was  said. 

Above  all  things,  and  upon  all  occasions,  avoid 
speaking  of  yourself,  if  it  be  possible.  Such  is  the 
natural  pride  and  vanity  of  our  hearts  that  it  per- 
petually breaks  out,  even  in  people  of  the  best  parts, 
in  all  the  various  modes  and  figures  of  the  egotism. 

Some  abruptly  speak  advantageously  of  them- 
selves, without  either  pretence  or  provocation.  They 
are  impudent.  Others  proceed  more  artfully  as 
they  imagine,  and  forge  accusations  against  them- 
selves, complain  of  calumnies  which  they  never  heard, 
in  order  to  justify  themselves  by  exhibiting  a  cata- 
logue of  their  many  virtues.  *  They  acknowledge  it 
may  indeed  seem  odd  that  they  should  talk  in  that 
manner  of  themselves ;  it  is  what  they  do  not  like, 
and  what  they  never  would  have  done,  —  no,  no  tor- 
tures should  ever  have  forced  it  from  them,  if  they 
had  not  been  thus  unjustly  and  monstrously  accused  ! 
But  in  these  cases  justice  is  surely  due  to  one's  self 
as  well  as  to  others,  and  when  our  character  is  at- 
tacked, we  may  say  in  our  own  justification  what 
otherwise  we  never  would  have  said.'  This  thin  veil 
of  modesty  drawn  before  vanity  is  much  too  tran- 


TO  HIS  SON.  105 

sparent  to  conceal  it  even  from  very  moderate 
discernment. 

Others  go  more  modestly  and  more  slyly  still  (as 
they  think)  to  work,  but  in  my  mind,  still  more 
ridiculously.  They  confess  themselves  (not  without 
some  degree  of  shame  and  confusion)  into  all  the 
cardinal  virtues  by  first  degrading  them  into  weak- 
nesses, and  then  owning  their  misfortune  in  being 
made  up  of  those  weaknesses.  '  They  cannot  see 
people  suffer  without  sympathizing  with  and  endea- 
voring to  help  them.  They  cannot  see  people  want 
without  relieving  them,  though  truly  their  own  cir- 
cumstances cannot  very  well  afford  it.  They  cannot 
help  speaking  truth,  though  they  know  ail  the  im- 
prudence of  it.  In  short,  they  know  that  with  all 
these  weaknesses,  they  are  not  fit  to  live  in  the 
world,  much  less  to  thrive  in  it ;  but  they  are  now 
too  old  to  change,  and  must  rub  on  as  well  as  they 
can.'  This  sounds  too  ridiculous  and  outre,  almost, 
for  the  stage  ;  and  yet,  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will 
frequently  meet  with  it  upon  the  common  stage  of 
the  world.  And  here  I  will  observe,  by  the  by,  that 
you  will  often  meet  with  characters  in  Nature  so 
extravagant,  that  a  discreet  poet  would  not  venture 
to  set  them  upon  the  stage  in  their  true  and  high 
coloring. 

This  principle  of  vanity  and  pride  is  so  strong  in 
human  nature  that  it  descends  even  to  the  lowest 
objects ;  and  one  often  sees  people  angling  for 
praise,  where,  admitting  all  they  say  to  be  true 
(which,  by  the  way,  it  seldom  is),  no  just  praise  is 
to  be  caught.     One  man  affirms  that  he  has  rode 


I06    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

post  an  hundred  miles  in  six  hours  :  probably  it  is 
a  lie  ;  but  supposing  it  to  be  true,  what  then  ?  Why 
he  is  a  very  good  post-boy,  that  is  all.  Another 
asserts,  and  probably  not  without  oaths,  that  he  has 
drunk  six  or  eight  bottles  of  wine  at  a  sitting ;  out 
of  charity,  I  will  believe  him  a  liar,  for  if  I  do  not 
I  must  think  him  a  beast. 

Such,  and  a  thousand  more,  are  the  follies  and 
extravagances  which  vanity  draws  people  into,  and 
which  always  defeat  their  own  purpose ;  and  as 
Waller  says,  upon  another  subject,  — 

"  Make  the  wretch  the  most  despised 
Where  most  he  wishes  to  be  prized." 

The  only  sure  way  of  avoiding  these  evils  is 
never  to  speak  of  yourself  at  all.  But  when,  histori- 
cally, you  are  obliged  to  mention  yourself,  take  care 
not  to  drop  one  single  word  that  can  directly  or  in- 
directly be  construed  as  fishing  for  applause.  Be 
your  character  what  it  will,  it  will  be  known ;  and 
nobody  will  take  it  upon  your  own  word.  Never 
imagine  that  anything  you  can  say  yourself  will  var- 
nish your  defects  or  add  lustre  to  your  perfections ; 
but  on  the  contrary  it  may,  and  nine  times  in  ten 
will,  make  the  former  more  glaring  and  the  latter 
obscure.  If  you  are  silent  upon  your  own  subject, 
neither  envy,  indignation,  nor  ridicule  will  obstruct 
or  allay  the  applause  which  you  may  really  deserve  ; 
but  if  you  publish  your  own  paneg}'ric  upon  any 
occasion,  or  in  any  shape  whatsoever,  and  however 
artfully  dressed  or  disguised,  they  will  all  conspire 
against  you,  and  you  will  be  disappointed  of  the 
very  end  you  aim  at. 


TO  HIS  SON.  107 

Take  care  never  to  seem  dark  and  mysterious,  — - 
which  is  not  only  a  very  unamiable  character  but  a 
very  suspicious  one  too.  If  you  seem  mysterious 
with  others,  they  will  be  really  so  with  you,  and  you 
will  know  nothing.  The  height  of  abilities  is  to 
have  iwlto  sciolto  and  pensieri  stretti ;  that  is,  a 
frank,  open,  and  ingenuous  exterior  with  a  prudent 
interior;  to  be  upon  your  own  guard,  and  yet  by 
a  seeming  natural  openness  to  put  people  off  theirs. 
Depend  upon  it,  nine  in  ten  of  every  company  you 
are  in  will  avail  themselves  of  every  indiscreet  and 
unguarded  expression  of  yours,  if  they  can  turn  it  to 
their  own  advantage.  A  prudent  reserve  is,  there- 
fore, as  necessary  as  a  seeming  openness  is  prudent. 
Always  look  people  in  the  face  when  you  speak  to 
them ;  the  not  doing  it  is  thought  to  imply  con- 
scious guilt.  Besides  that,  you  lose  the  advantage 
of  observing  by  their  countenances  what  impression 
your  discourse  makes  upon  them.  In  order  to 
know  people's  real  sentiments,  I  trust  much  more 
to  my  eyes  than  to  my  ears ;  for  they  can  say  what- 
ever they  have  a  mind  I  should  hear,  but  they  can 
seldom  help  looking  what  they  have  no  intention 
that  I  should  know. 

Neither  retail  nor  receive  scandal  willingly ;  de- 
famation of  others  may  for  the  present  gratify  the 
malignity  of  the  pride  of  our  hearts,  cool  reflection 
will  draw  very  disadvantageous  conclusions  from 
such  a  disposition ;  and  in  the  case  of  scandal,  as 
in  that  of  robbery,  the  receiver  is  always  thought  as 
bad  as  the  thief. 

Mimicry,  which  is  the  common  and  favorite  amuse- 


I08     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

ment  of  little,  low  minds,  is  in  the  utmost  contempt 
with  great  ones.  It  is  the  lowest  and  most  illiberal 
of  all  buffoonery.  Pray,  neither  practise  it  yourself 
nor  applaud  it  in  others.  Besides  that,  the  person 
mimicked  is  insulted,  and  as  I  have  often  observed 
to  you  before,  an  insult  is  never  forgiven. 

I  need  not,  I  believe,  advise  you  to  adapt  your 
conversation  to  the  people  you  are  conversing  with, 
—  for  I  suppose  you  would  not,  without  this  caution, 
have  talked  upon  the  same  subject,  and  in  the  same 
manner,  to  a  minister  of  state,  a  bishop,  a  philoso- 
pher, a  captain,  and  a  woman.  A  man  of  the  world 
must,  like  the  chameleon,  be  able  to  take  every  dif- 
ferent hue,  which  is  by  no  means  a  criminal  or  abject, 
but  a  necessary  complaisance  ;  for  it  relates  only  to 
manners  and  not  to  morals. 

One  word  only  as  to  swearing,  and  that,  I  hope 
and  believe,  is  more  than  is  necessary.  You  may 
sometimes  hear  some  people  in  good  company 
interlard  their  discourse  with  oaths,  by  way  of  em- 
bellishment, as  they  think ;  but  you  must  observe 
too,  that  those  who  do  so  are  never  those  who  con- 
tribute in  any  degree  to  give  that  company  the 
denomination  of  good  company.  They  are  always 
subalterns,  or  people  of  low  education ;  for  that 
practice,  besides  that  it  has  no  one  temptation  to 
plead,  is  as  silly  and  as  illiberal  as  it  is  wicked. 

Loud  laughter  is  the  mirth  of  the  mob,  who  are 
only  pleased  with  silly  things ;  for  true  wit  or  good 
sense  never  excited  a  laugh  since  the  creation  of  the 
world.  A  man  of  parts  and  fashion  is  therefore  only 
seen  to  smile,  but  never  heard  to  laugh. 


TO  HIS  SON.  109 

But  to  conclude  this  long  letter :  all  the  above- 
mentioned  rules,  however  carefully  you  may  observe 
them,  will  lose  half  their  effect  if  unaccompanied  by 
the  Graces.  Whatever  you  say,  if  you  say  it  with  a 
supercilious,  cynical  face,  or  an  embarrassed  coun- 
tenance, or  a  silly,  disconcerted  grin,  will  be  ill  re- 
ceived. If,  into  the  bargain,  you  mutter  it,  or  utter 
it  indistinctly  and  ungracefully,  it  will  be  still  worse 
received.  If  your  air  and  address  are  vulgar,  awk- 
ward, and  gauche,  you  may  be  esteemed  indeed,  if 
you  have  great  intrinsic  merit,  but  you  will  never 
please ;  and  without  pleasing,  you  will  rise  but 
heavily.  Venus  among  the  ancients  was  synony- 
mous with  the  Graces,  who  were  always  supposed 
to  accompany  her;  and  Horace  tells  us  that  even 
youth,  and  Mercury,  the  God  of  arts  and  eloquence, 
would  not  do  without  her,  — 

"  Parum  comis  sine  te  Juventas  Mercuriusque  " 

They  are  not  inexorable  ladies,  and  may  be  had, 
if  properly  and  diligently  pursued.     Adieu. 


XXXI. 

FURTHER  RULES   FOR  CONDUCT  IN   GOOD  COMPANY. 

Bath,  October  29,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  My  anxiety  for  your  success  in- 
creases in  proportion  as  the  time  approaches  of 
your  taking  your  part  upon  the  great  stage  of  the 
world.  ...  I  have  long  since  done  mentioning 
your  great  religious  and  moral   duties,  because   I 


I  lO    LETTERS  QF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

.  could  not  make  your  understanding  so  bad  a  compli- 
ment as  to  suppose  that  you  wanted  or  could  re- 
ceive any  new  instructions  upon  these  two  important 
points.  Mr.  Harte,  I  am  sure,  has  not  neglected 
them ;  besides,  they  are  so  obvious  to  common  sense 
and  reason  that  commentators  may  (as  they  often 
do)  perplex,  but  cannot  make  them  clearer.  My 
province,  therefore,  is  to  supply  by  my  experience 
your  hitherto  inevitable  inexperience  in  the  ways  of 
the  world.  People  at  your  age  are  in  a  state  of  nat- 
ural ebriety,  and  want  rails  and  gardefous  wherever 
they  go,  to  hinder  them  from  breaking  their  necks. 
This  drunkenness  of  youth  is  not  only  tolerated,  but 
even  pleases,  if  kept  within  certain  bounds  of  dis- 
cretion and  decency.  These  bounds  are  the  point 
which  it  is  difficult  for  the  drunken  man  himself  to 
find  out,  and  there  it  is  that  the  experience  of  a 
friend  may  not  only  serve  but  save  him. 

Carry  with  you,  and  welcome,  into  company  all 
the  gayety  and  spirits,  but  as  little  of  the  giddiness,  of 
youth  as  you  can.  The  former  will  charm  ;  but  the 
latter  will  often,  though  innocently,  implacably  of- 
fend. Inform  yourself  of  the  characters  and  situa- 
tions of  the  company  before  you  give  way  to  what 
your  imagination  may  prompt  you  to  say.  There  are 
in  all  companies  more  wrong  heads  than  right  ones, 
and  many  more  who  deserve  than  who  like  censure. 
Should  you  therefore  expatiate  in  the  praise  of  some 
virtue  which  some  in  company  notoriously  want, 
or  declaim  against  any  vice  which  others  are  notor- 
iously infected  with,  your  reflections,  however  gen- 
eral  and   unapplied,   will  by   being  applicable    be 


TO  HIS  SON.  1 1 1 

thought  personal,  and  levelled  at  those  people. 
This  consideration  points  out  to  you  sufficiently  not 
to  be  suspicious  and  captious  yourself,  nor  to  sup- 
pose that  things,  because  they  may  be,  are  therefore 
meant  at  you.  The  manners  of  well-bred  people 
secure  one  from  those  indirect  and  mean  attacks; 
but  if  by  chance  a  flippant  woman,  or  a  pert  cox- 
comb, lets  off  anything  of  that  kind,  it  is  much 
better  not  to  seem  to  understand  than  to  reply 
to  it. 

Cautiously  avoid  talking  of  either  your  own  or 
other  people's  domestic  affairs.  Yours  are  nothing 
to  them  but  tedious ;  theirs  are  nothing  to  you.  The 
subject  is  a  tender  one,  and  it  is  odds  but  that 
you  touch  somebody  or  other's  sore  place ;  for  in 
this  case  there  is  no  trusting  to  specious  appear- 
ances, which  may  be,  and  often  are,  so  contrary  to  the 
real  situations  of  things  between  men  and  their 
wives,  parents  and  their  children,  seeming  friends, 
etc.,  that  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world  one 
often  blunders  disagreeably. 

Remember  that  the  wit,  humor,  and  jokes  of 
most  mixed  companies  are  local.  They  thrive  in 
that  particular  soil,  but  will  not  often  bear 
transplanting.  Every  company  is  differently  cir- 
cumstanced, has  its  particular,  cant  and  jargon, 
which  may  give  occasion  to  wit  and  mirth  within 
that  circle,  but  would  seem  flat  and  insipid  in  any 
other,  and  therefore  will  not  bear  repeating.  Nothing 
makes  a  man  look  sillier  than  a  pleasantry  not  rel- 
ished or  not  understood ;  and  if  he  meets  with  a 
profound  silence  when  he   expected  a  general  ap- 


112     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

plause,  or,  what  is  worse,  if  he  is  desired  to  explain 
the  bon  mot,  his  awkward  and  embarrassed  situation 
is  easier  imagined  than  described.  A  propos  of  re- 
peating, take  great  care  never  to  repeat  (I  do  not 
mean  here  the  pleasantries)  in  one  company  what 
you  hear  in  another.  Things  seemingly  indifferent 
may  by  circulation  have  much  graver  consequences 
than  you  would  imagine.  Besides  there  is  a  gene- 
ral tacit  trust  in  conversation  by  which  a  man  is 
obliged  not  to  report  anything  out  of  it,  though  he 
is  not  immediately  enjoined  secrecy.  A  retailer  of 
this  kind  is  sure  to  draw  himself  into  a  thousand 
scrapes  and  discussions,  and  to  be  shyly  and  uncom- 
fortably received  wherever  he  goes. 

You  will  find  in  most  good  company  some  people 
who  only  keep  their  place  there  by  a  contemptible 
title  enough ;  these  are  what  we  call  "  very  good- 
natured  fellows,"  and  the  French,  bo7is  diables.  The 
truth  is,  they  are  people  without  any  parts  or  fancy, 
and  who,  having  no  will  of  their  own,  readily  assent 
to,  concur  in,  and  applaud  whatever  is  said  or  done 
in  the  company ;  and  adopt  with  the  same  alacrity 
the  most  virtuous  or  the  most  criminal,  the  wisest 
or  the  silliest,  scheme  that  happens  to  be  enter- 
tained by  the  majority  of  the  company.  This 
foolish  and  often  criminal  complaisance  flows  from 
a  foolish  cause,  —  the  want  of  any  other  merit.  I 
hope  that  you  will  hold  your  place  in  company 
by  a  nobler  tenure,  and  that  you  will  hold  it  (you  can 
bear  a  quibble,  I  believe,  yet  in  capite.  Have  a 
will  and  an  opinion  of  your  own,  and  adhere  to 
them  steadily;   but  then  do  it  with  good  humor. 


TO  HIS  SON.  113 

good  breeding,  and  (if  you  have  it)  with  urbanity; 
for  you  have  not  yet  beard  enough  either  to  preach 
or  censure. 

All  other  kinds  of  complaisance  are  not  only 
blameless  but  necessary  in  good  company.  Not  to 
seem  to  perceive  the  little  weaknesses  and  the  idle 
but  innocent  affectations  of  the  company,  but  even  to 
flatter  them  in  a  certain  manner  is  not  only  very 
allowable,  but  in  truth  a  sort  of  polite  duty.  They 
will  be  pleased  with  you  if  you  do,  and  will  cer- 
tainly not  be  reformed  by  you  if  you  do  not.  For 
instance  ;  you  will  find  in  every  gi-oupe  of  company 
two  principal  figures,  —  namely,  the  fine  lady  and  the 
fine  gentleman,  who  absolutely  give  the  law  of  wit, 
language,  fashion,  and  taste  to  the  rest  of  that 
society.  There  is  always  a  strict  and  often  for  the 
time  being  a  tender  alliance  between  these  two 
figures.  The  lady  looks  upon  her  empire  as 
founded  upon  the  divine  right  of  beauty  (and  full  as 
good  a  divine  right  it  is  as  any  king,  emperor,  or 
pope  can  pretend  to)  ;  she  requires,  and  commonly 
meets  with,  unhmited  passive  obedience.  And  why 
should  she  not  meet  with  it?  Her  demands  go  no 
higher  than  to  have  her  unquestioned  pre-eminence 
in  beauty,  wit,  and  fashion  firmly  established.  Few 
sovereigns  (by  the  way)  are  so  reasonable.  The 
fine  gentleman's  claims  of  right  are,  mutatis 
mutandis,  the  same  ;  and  though  indeed  he  is  not 
always  a  wit  de  jure,  yet  as  he  is  the  wit  de  facto 
of  that  company,  he  is  entitled  to  a  share  of  your 
allegiance ;  and  everybody  expects  at  least  as  much 
as  they  are  entitled  to,  if  not  something  more. 
8 


114    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

Prudence  bids  you  make  your  court  to  these  joint 
sovereigns,  and  no  duty  that  I  know  of  forbids  it. 
RebelUon  here  is  exceedingly  dangerous,  and  in- 
evitably punished  by  banishment  and  immediate 
forfeiture  of  all  your  wit,  manners,  taste,  and 
fashion ;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  a  cheerful  submis- 
sion, not  without  some  flattery,  is  sure  to  procure 
you  a  strong  recommendation  and  most  effectual 
pass  throughout  all  their  and  probably  the  neighbor- 
ing dominions.  With  a  moderate  share  of  sagacity, 
you  will,  before  you  have  been  half  an  hour  in  their 
company,  easily  discover  those  two  principal 
figures,  both  by  the  deference  which  you  will 
observe  the  whole  company  pay  them,  and  by  that 
easy,  careless,  and  serene  air  which  their  conscious- 
ness of  power  gives  them.  As  in  this  case,  so  in  all 
others,  aim  always  at  the  highest ;  get  always  into  the 
highest  company,  and  address  yourself  particularly  to 
the  highest  in  it.  The  search  after  the  unattainable 
philosopher's  stone  has  occasioned  a  thousand  useful 
discoveries  which  otherwise  would  never  have  been 
made. 

What  the  French  justly  call  les  manieres  nobles 
are  only  to  be  acquired  in  the  very  best  companies. 
They  are  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  men 
of  fashion ;  people  of  low  education  never  wear 
them  so  close  but  that  some  part  or  other  of  the 
original  vulgarism  appears.  Les  manieres  nobles 
equally  forbid  insolent  contempt  or  low  envy  and 
jealousy.  Low  people  in  good  circumstances,  fine 
clothes,  and  equipages  will  insolently  show  con- 
tempt   for    all    those    who    cannot    afford   as  fine 


TO  HIS  SON.  115 

clothes,  as  good  an  equipage,  and  who  have 
not  (as  their  term  is)  as  much  money  in  their 
pockets ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  gnawed  with 
envy,  and  cannot  help  discovering  it,  of  those  who 
surpass  them  in  any  of  these  articles,  which  are 
far  from  being  sure  criterions  of  merit.  They  are 
likewise  jealous  of  being  slighted,  and  consequently 
suspicious  and  captious ;  they  are  eager  and  hot 
about  trifles  because  trifles  were  at  first  their  af- 
fairs of  consequence.  Les  manures  nobles  imply 
exactly  the  reverse  of  all  this.  Study  them  early ; 
you  cannot  make  them  too  habitual  and  familiar 
to  you. 


XXXII. 

IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  GRACES  ILLUSTRATED  IN  A 
DESIGN  OF  CARLO  MARATTL— THE  DUKE  OF  MARL- 
BOROUGH. 

London,  Nov.  18,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  Whatever  I  see,  or  whatever  I 
hear,  my  first  consideration  is  whether  it  can  in 
any  way  be  useful  to  you.  As  a  proof  of  this,  I 
went  accidentally  the  other  day  into  a  print-shop, 
where,  among  many  others,  I  found  one  print  from 
a  famous  design  of  Carlo  Maratti,^  who  died  about 
thirty  years  ago  and  was  the  last  eminent  painter 
in  Europe.  The  subject  is  //  Studio  del  Disegno,  or 
the  School  of  Drawing.  An  old  man,  supposed  to 
be   the   master,    points   to   his   scholars,   who   are 

1  The  date  of  his  death  is  Dec.  15, 17 13. 


Il6    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

variously  employed  in  perspective,  geometry,  and 
the  observation  of  the  statues  of  antiquity.  With 
regard  to  perspective,  of  which  there  are  some 
little  specimens,  he  has  wrote  tanto  che  basti,  that 
is,  as  much  as  is  sufficient ;  with  regard  to  geom- 
etry, tanto  che  basti  again  ;  with  regard  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  ancient  statues  there  is  written, 
non  mat  a  bastanza,  —  there  never  can  be  enough. 
But  in  the  clouds  at  the  top  of  the  piece  are 
represented  the  three  Graces,  with  this  just  sen- 
tence written  over  them :  senza  di  not  ogni  fatica  e 
vana,  —  that  is,  without  us  all  labor  is  vain.  This 
everybody  allows  to  be  true  in  painting ;  but  all 
people  do  not  seem  to  consider,  as  I  hope  you 
will,  that  this  truth  is  full  as  applicable  to  every 
other  art  or  science,  —  indeed  to  everything  that  is 
to  be  said  or  done.  I  will  send  you  the  print  itself 
by  Mr.  Eliot  when  he  returns ;  and  I  will  advise 
you  to  make  the  same  use  of  it  that  the  Roman 
Catholics  say  they  do  of  the  pictures  and  images  of 
their  Saints,  —  which  is  only  to  remind  them  of 
those,  for  the  adoration  they  disclaim.  Nay,  I  will 
go  further ;  as  the  transition  from  popery  to  pagan- 
ism is  short  and  easy,  I  will  classically  and  poetically 
advise  you  to  invoke  and  sacrifice  to  them  every 
day  and  all  the  day.  It  must  be  owned  that  the 
Graces  do  not  seem  to  be  natives  of  Great  Britain, 
and  I  doubt  the  best  of  us  here  have  more  of  the 
rough  than  the  polished  diamond.  Since  barbarism 
drove  them  out  of  Greece  and  Rome,  they  seem  to 
have  taken  refuge  in  France,  where  their  temples 
are  numerous  and  their  worship  the  established  one. 


TO  HIS  SON.  117 

Examine  yourself  seriously  why  such  and  such 
people  please  and  engage  you  more  than  such  and 
such  others  of  equal  merit,  and  you  will  always  find 
that  it  is  because  the  former  have  the  Graces  and 
the  latter  not.  I  have  known  many  a  woman  with 
an  exact  shape  and  a  symmetrical  assemblage  of 
beautiful  features  please  nobody ;  while  others 
with  very  moderate  shapes  and  features  have 
charmed  everybody.  Why?  Because  Venus  will 
not  charm  so  much  without  her  attendant  Graces 
as  they  will  without  her.  Among  men,  how  often 
have  I  seen  the  most  solid  merit  and  knowledge 
neglected,  unwelcome,  or  even  rejected  for  want  of 
them ;  while  flimsy  parts,  little  knowledge,  and 
less  merit  introduced  by  the  Graces  have  been 
received,  cherished,  and  admired !  Even  virtue, 
which  is  moral  beauty,  wants  some  of  its  charms  if 
unaccompanied  by  them. 

If  you  ask  me  how  you  shall  acquire  what  neither 
you  nor  I  can  define  or  ascertain,  I  can  only 
answer  —  by  observation.  Form  yourself  with 
regard  to  others  upon  what  you  feel  pleases  you  in 
them.  I  can  tell  you  the  importance,  the  advan- 
tage, of  having  the  Graces ;  but  I  cannot  give 
them  you.  I  heartily  wish  I  could,  and  I  certainly 
would  ;  for  I  do  not  know  a  better  present  that  I 
could  make  you.  To  show  you  that  a  very  wise, 
philosophical,  and  retired  man  thinks  upon  that 
subject  as  I  do,  who  have  always  lived  in  the  world, 
I  send  you  by  Mr.  Eliot  the  famous  Mr.  Locke's 
book  upon  education,  in  which  you  will  find  the 
stress  that  he  lays  upon  the  Graces,  which  he  calls 


Il8     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

(and  very  truly)  good  breeding.  I  have  marked 
all  the  parts  of  that  book  that  are  worth  your  atten- 
tion, for  as  he  begins  with  the  child  almost  from  its 
birth  the  parts  relative  to  its  infancy  would  be 
useless  to  you.  Germany  is  still  less  than  England 
the  seat  of  the  Graces ;  however,  you  had  as  good 
not  say  so  while  you  are  there.  But  the  place 
which  you  are  going  to  in  a  great  degree  is ;  for  I 
have  known  as  many  well-bred,  pretty  men  come 
from  Turin  as  from  any  part  of  Europe.  The  late 
King  Victor  Amedde  took  great  pains  to  form  such 
of  his  subjects  as  were  of  any  consideration  both  to 
business  and  manners.  The  present  king,  I  am 
told,  follows  his  example  :  this  however  is  certain, 
that  in  all  courts  and  congresses  where  there  are 
various  foreign  ministers,  those  of  the  King  of 
Sardinia  are  generally  the  ablest,  the  politest,  and 
les  plus  d^lih.  You  will  therefore  at  Turin  have 
very  good  models  to  form  yourself  upon;  and 
remember  that  with  regard  to  the  best  models, 
as  well  as  to  the  antique  Greek  statues  in  the  print, 
non  viai  a  bastanza.  Observe  every  word,  look, 
and  motion  of  those  who  are  allowed  to  be  the 
most  accomplished  persons  there  Observe  their 
natural  and  careless  but  genteel  air,  their  unem- 
barrassed good  breeding,  their  unassuming  but  yet 
unprostituted  dignity.  Mind  their  decent  mirth, 
their  discreet  frankness,  and  that  entregent  which, 
as  much  above  the  frivolous  as  below  the  important 
and  the  secret,  is  the  proper  medium  for  conversa- 
tion in  mixed  companies.  I  will  observe,  by  the 
by,  that  the  talent  of  that  light  entregent  is  often  of 


TO  HIS  SON.  1 19 

great  use  to  a  foreign  minister,  —  not  only  as  it  helps 
him  to  domesticate  himself  in  many  families,  but 
also  as  it  enables  him  to  put  by  and  parry  some 
subjects  of  conversation,  which  might  possibly  lay 
him  under  difficulties  both  what  to  say  and  how  to 
look. 

Of  all  the  men  that  ever  I  knew  in  my  life  (and 
I  knew  him  extremely  well)  the  late  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough possessed  the  Graces  in  the  highest  degree, 
not  to  say  engrossed  them ;  and  indeed  he  got  the 
most  by  them  ;  for  I  will  venture  (contrary  to  the 
custom  of  profound  historians,  who  always  assign 
deep  causes  for  great  events)  to  ascribe  the  better 
half  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's  greatness  and 
riches  to  those  graces.  He  was  eminently  illiterate, 
wrote  bad  English  and  spelled  it  still  worse  ;  he  had 
no  share  of  what  is  commonly  called  parts,  that  is, 
he  had  no  brightness,  nothing  shining  in  his  genius. 
He  had  most  undoubtedly  an  excellent  good  plain 
understanding  with  sound  judgment.  But  these 
alone  would  probably  have  raised  him  but  some- 
thing higher  than  they  found  him,  which  was  page 
to  King  James  the  Second's  Queen.  There  the 
Graces  protected  and  promoted  him  ;  for  while  he 
was  an  Ensign  of  the  Guards  the  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land, then  favorite  mistress  to  King  Charles  the 
Second,  struck  by  those  very  graces,  gave  him  five 
thousand  pounds,  with  which  he  immediately  bought 
an  annuity  for  his  life  of  five  hundred  pounds  a  year 
of  my  grandfather  Halifax,  which  was  the  foundation 
of  his  subsequent  fortune.  His  figure  was  beautiful, 
but  his  manner  was  irresistible  by  either  man  or 


I20    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

woman.  It  was  by  this  engaging,  graceful  manner 
that  he  was  enabled  during  all  his  war  to  connect 
the  various  and  jarring  powers  of  the  Grand  Alliance, 
and  to  carry  them  on  to  the  main  object  of  the  war, 
notwithstanding  their  private  and  separate  views,  jeal- 
ousies, and  wrongheadednesses.  Whatever  Court  he 
went  to  (and  he  was  often  obliged  to  go  himself  to 
some  resty  and  refractory  ones),  he  as  constantly 
prevailed,  and  brought  them  into  his  measures.  The 
Pensionary  Heinsius,  a  venerable  old  minister  grown 
gray  in  business  and  who  had  governed  the  republic  of 
the  United  Provinces  for  more  than  forty  years,  was 
absolutely  governed  by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough, 
as  that  republic  feels  to  this  day.  He  was  always 
cool,  and  nobody  ever  observed  the  least  variation 
in  his  countenance ;  he  could  refuse  more  grace- 
fully than  other  people  could  grant ;  and  those  who 
went  away  from  him  the  most  dissatisfied  as  to  the 
substance  of  their  business  were  yet  personally 
charmed  with  him  and  in  some  degree  comforted 
by  his  manner.  With  all  his  gentleness  and  grace- 
fulness no  man  living  was  more  conscious  of  his 
situation  nor  maintained  his  dignity  better. 


XXXIII. 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  DRESS. 

London,  Dec.  30,  o.  s.  1748. 
Dear  Boy,  —  I  direct  this  letter  to  Berlin,  where 
I  suppose  it  will  either  find  you  or  at  least  wait  but  a 
very  little  time  for  you.    I  cannot  help  being  anxious 


TO  HIS  SON.  121 

for  your  success  at  this  your  first  appearance  upon 
the  great  stage  of  the  world ;  for  though  the  specta- 
tors are  always  candid  enough  to  give  great  allow- 
ances and  to  show  great  indulgence  to  a  new  actor, 
yet  from  the  first  impressions  which  he  makes  upon 
them  they  are  apt  to  decide,  in  their  own  minds  at 
least  whether  he  will  ever  be  a  good  one  or  not.  If 
he  seems  to  understand  what  he  says,  by  speaking 
it  properly ;  if  he  is  attentive  to  his  part,  instead  of 
staring  negligently  about ;  and  if,  upon  the  whole,  he 
seems  ambitious  to  please,  they  willingly  pass  over 
little  awkwardnesses  and  inaccuracies,  which  they 
ascribe  to  a  commendable  modesty  in  a  young  and 
inexperienced  actor.  They  pronounce  that  he  will 
be  a  good  one  in  time ;  and  by  the  encouragement 
which  they  give  him,  make  him  so  the  sooner.  This 
I  hope  will  be  your  case.  You  have  sense  enough  to 
understand  your  part ;  a  constant  attention  and  am- 
bition to  excel  in  it,  with  a  careful  observation  of 
the  best  actors,  will  inevitably  qualify  you,  if  not  for 
the  first,  at  least  for  considerable  parts. 

Your  dress  (as  insignificant  a  thing  as  dress  is  in 
itself)  is  now  become  an  object  worthy  of  some 
attention ;  for  I  confess  I  cannot  help  forming 
some  opinion  of  a  man's  sense  and  character  from 
his  dress,  and  I  believe  most  people  do  as  well  as 
myself.  Any  affectation  whatsoever  in  dress  implies, 
in  my  mind,  a  flaw  in  the  understanding.  Most  of 
our  young  fellows  here  display  some  character  or 
other  by  their  dress ;  some  affect  the  tremendous, 
and  wear  a  great  and  fiercely -cocked  hat,  an 
enormous   sword,    a  short   waistcoat,  and   a  black 


122     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

cravat ;  these  I  should  be  almost  tempted  to  swear 
the  peace  against,  in  my  own  defence,  if  I  were  not 
convinced  that  they  are  but  meek  asses  in  lions' 
skins.  Others  go  in  brown  frocks,  leather  breeches, 
great  oaken  cudgels  in  their  hands,  their  hats 
uncocked,  and  their  hair  unpowdered ;  and  imitate 
grooms,  stage-coachmen,  and  country  bumpkins 
so  well  in  their  outsides,  that  I  do  not  make  the 
least  doubt  of  their  resembling  them  equally  in 
their  insides.  A  man  of  sense  carefully  avoids  any 
particular  character  in  his  dress ;  he  is  accurately 
clean  for  his  own  sake,  but  all  the  rest  is  for  other 
people's.  He  dresses  as  well,  and  in  the  same 
manner,  as  the  people  of  sense  and  fashion  of  the 
place  where  he  is.  If  he  dresses  better  as  he 
thinks,  that  is,  more  than  they,  he  is  a  fop ;  if  he 
dresses  worse,  he  is  unpardonably  negligent :  but 
of  the  two,  I  would  rather  have  a  young  fellow  too 
much  than  too  little  dressed ;  the  excess  on  that 
side  will  wear  off  with  a  little  age  and  reflection ; 
but  if  he  is  negligent  at  twenty,  he  will  be  a  sloven 
at  forty.  Dress  yourself  fine  where  others  are  fine, 
and  plain  where  others  are  plain;  but  take  care 
always  that  your  clothes  are  well  made  and  fit  you, 
for  otherwise  they  will  give  you  a  very  awkward  air. 
When  you  are  once  well  dressed  for  the  day  think 
no  more  of  it  afterwards ;  and  without  ajiy  stiffness 
for  fear  of  discomposing  that  dress,  let  all  your  mo- 
tions be  as  easy  and  natural  as  if  you  had  no  clothes 
on  at  all.  So  much  for  dress,  which  I  maintain  to 
be  a  thing  of  consequence  in  the  polite  world. 


TO  HIS  SON.  123 


XXXIV. 

ON  PREJUDICES.  — LIBERTY  OF  THE  PRESS 

London,  Feb.  7,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  You  are  now  come  to  an  age  capa- 
ble of  reflection,  and  I  hope  you  will  do,  what 
however  few  people  at  your  age  do,  exert  it  for 
your  own  sake  in  the  search  of  truth  and  sound 
knowledge.  I  will  confess  (for  I  am  not  unwilling 
to  discover  my  secrets  to  you)  that  it  is  not  many 
years  since  I  have  presumed  to  reflect  for  myself. 
Till  sixteen  or  seventeen  I  had  no  reflection,  and 
for  many  years  after  that,  I  made  no  use  of  what  I 
had.  I  adopted  the  notions  of  the  books  I  read, 
or  the  company  I  kept,  without  examining  whether 
they  were  just  or  not ;  and  I  rather  chose  to  run 
the  risk  of  easy  error  than  to  take  the  time  and 
trouble  of  investigating  truth.  Thus,  partly  from 
laziness,  partly  from  dissipation,  and  partly  from  the 
mauvaise  honte  of  rejecting  fashionable  notions,  I 
was  (as  I  have  since  found)  hurried  away  by  preju- 
dices instead  of  being  guided  by  reason,  and 
quietly  cherished  error  instead  of  seeking  for  truth. 
But  since  I  have  taken  the  trouble  of  reasoning  for 
myself  and  have  had  the  courage  to  own  that  I  do 
so,  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  my  notions  of 
things  are  altered,  and  in  how  different  a  light  I 
now  see  them  from  that  in  which  I  formerly  viewed 
them  through  the  deceitful  medium  of  prejudice  or 
authority.     Nay,  I  may  possibly  still  retain   many 


124    LETTERS  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

errors,  which  from  long  habit  have  perhaps  grown 
into  real  opinions ;  for  it  is  very  difficult  to  distin- 
guish habits,  early  acquired  and  long  entertained, 
from  the  result  of  our  reason  and  reflection. 

My  first  prejudice  (for  I  do  not  mention  the 
prejudices  of  boys  and  women,  such  as  hobgoblins, 
ghosts,  dreams,  spilling  salt,  etc.)  was  my  classical 
enthusiasm,  which  I  received  from  the  books  I 
read  and  the  masters  who  explained  them  to  me. 
I  was  convinced  there  had  been  no  common-sense 
nor  common  honesty  in  the  world  for  these  last 
fifteen  hundred  years,  but  that  they  were  totally 
extinguished  with  the  ancient  Greek  and  Roman 
governments.  Homer  and  Virgil  could  have  no 
faults,  because  they  were  ancient ;  Milton  and 
Tasso  could  have  no  merit,  because  they  were 
modem.  And  I  could  almost  have  said  with  re- 
gard to  the  ancients  what  Cicero  very  absurdly  and 
unbecomingly  for  a  philosopher  says  with  regard  to 
Plato,  Cum  quo  errare  malhn  quam  cum  aliis  recte 
sentire.  Whereas  now,  without  any  extraordinary 
effort  of  genius,  I  have  discovered  that  nature  was 
the  same  three  thousand  years  ago  as  it  is  at 
present ;  that  men  were  but  men  then  as  well  as 
now ;  that  modes  and  customs  vary  often,  but  that 
human  nature  is  always  the  same.  And  I  can  no 
more  suppose  that  men  were  better,  braver,  or 
wiser  fifteen  hundred  or  three  thousand  years  ago 
than  I  can  suppose  that  the  anmials  or  vegetables 
were  better  then  than  they  are  now.  I  dare  assert 
too  in  defiance  of  the  favorers  of  the  ancients  that 
Homer's  hero,  Achilles,  was  both  a    brute   and  a 


TO  HIS  SON.  125 

scoundrel,  and  consequently  an  improper  character 
for  the  hero  of  an  epic  poem :  he  had  so  little 
regard  for  his  country  that  he  would  not  act  in 
defence  of  it  because  he  had  quarrelled  with  Aga- 
memnon about  a  strumpet ;  and  then  afterwards, 
animated  by  private  resentment  only,  he  went  about 
killing  people  basely,  I  will  call  it,  because  he  knew 
himself  invulnerable ;  and  yet  invulnerable  as  he 
was  he  wore  the  strongest  armor  in  the  world, — 
which  I  humbly  apprehend  to  be  a  blunder,  for  a 
horse-shoe  clapped  to  his  vulnerable  heel  would 
have  been  sufficient.  On  the  other  hand,  with  sub- 
mission to  the  favorers  of  the  moderns,  I  assert 
with  Mr.  Dryden  that  the  Devil  is  in  truth  the  hero 
of  Milton's  poem,  —  his  plan,  which  he  lays,  pursues, 
and  at  last  executes,  being  the  subject  of  the  poem. 
From  all  which  considerations  I  impartially  con- 
clude that  the  ancients  had  their  excellences  and 
their  defects,  their  virtues  and  their  vices,  just  like 
the  moderns ;  pedantry  and  affectation  of  learning 
decide  clearly  in  favor  of  the  former;  vanity  and 
ignorance  as  peremptorily  in  favor  of  the  latter. 
Religious  prejudices  kept  pace  with  my  classical 
ones,  and  there  was  a  time  when  I  thought  it  im- 
possible for  the  honestest  man  in  the  world  to  be 
saved  out  of  the  pale  of  the  Church  of  England,^  — 
not  considering  that  matters  of  opinion  do  not 
depend  upon  the  will,  and  that  it  is  as  natural  and 
as   allowable    that    another    man   should   differ   in 

1  In  1 71 6  Chesterfield  actively  opposed  the  repeal  of  an 
outrageous  disabling  Act  passed  by  the  Tories  in  Queen 
Anne  s  reign  against  dissenters 


126     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

opinion  from  me  as  that  I  should  differ  from  him ; 
and  that  if  we  are  both  sincere,  we  are  both  blame- 
less, and  should  consequently  have  mutual  indul- 
gence for  each  other. 

The  next  prejudices  that  I  adopted  were  those  of 
the  beau  monde,  in  which,  as  I  was  determined  to 
snine,  I  took  what  are  commonly  called  the  genteel 
vices  to  be  necessary.  I  had  heard  them  reckoned 
so,  and  without  further  inquiry  I  believed  it,  or  at 
least  should  have  been  ashamed  to  have  denied  it 
for  fear  of  exposing  myself  to  the  ridicule  of  those 
whom  I  considered  as  the  models  of  fine  gentlemen. 
But  I  am  now  neither  ashamed  nor  afraid  to  assert 
that  those  genteel  vices,  as  they  are  falsely  called, 
are  only  so  many  blemishes  in  the  character  of  even 
a  man  of  the  world  and  what  is  called  a  fine  gentle- 
man, and  degrade  him  in  the  opinions  of  those  very 
people  to  whom  he  hopes  to  recommend  himself  by 
them.  Nay,  this  prejudice  often  extends  so  far  that 
I  have  known  people  pretend  to  vices  they  had  not, 
instead  of  carefully  concealing  those  they  had. 

Use  and  assert  your  own  reason ;  reflect,  examine, 
and  analyze  everything,  in  order  to  form  a  sound 
and  mature  judgment ;  let  no  oStos  e^a  impose  upon 
your  understanding,  mislead  your  actions,  or  dictate 
your  conversation.  Be  early  what  if  you  are  not, 
you  will  when  too  late  wish  you  had  been.  Con- 
sult your  reason  betimes ;  I  do  not  say  that  it  will 
always  prove  an  unerring  guide,  for  human  reason  is 
not  infallible,  but  it  will  prove  the  least  erring  guide 
that  you  can  follow.  Books  and  conversation  may 
assist  it,  but  adopt  neither  blindly  and  implicitly; 


TO  HIS  SON.  127 

try  both  by  that  best  rule  which  God  has  given  to 
direct  us,  —  reason.  Of  all  the  troubles,  do  not  de- 
cline, as  many  people  do,  that  of  thinking.  The 
herd  of  mankind  can  hardly  be  said  to  think ;  their 
notions  are  almost  all  adoptive ;  and  in  general  I 
believe  it  is  better  that  it  should  be  so,  as  such 
common  prejudices  contribute  more  to  order  and 
quiet  than  their  own  separate  reasonings  would  do, 
uncultivated  and  unimproved  as  they  are.  We  have 
many  of  those  useful  prejudices  in  this  country 
which  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  removed.  The 
good  Protestant  conviction  that  the  Pope  is  both 
Antichrist  and  the  W  —  of  Babylon,  is  a  more  effec- 
tual preservative  in  this  country  against  popery 
than  all  the  solid  and  unanswerable  arguments  of 
Chillingworth. 

The  idle  story  of  the  Pretender's  having  been  in- 
troduced in  a  warming-pan  into  the  Queen's  bed, 
though  as  destitute  of  all  probability  as  of  all  foun- 
dation, has  been  much  more  prejudicial  to  the  cause 
of  Jacobitism  than  all  that  Mr.  Locke  and  others 
have  written  to  show  the  unreasonableness  and  ab- 
surdity of  the  doctrines  of  indefeasible  hereditary 
right  and  unlimited  passive  obedience.  And  that 
silly,  sanguine  notion  which  is  firmly  entertained 
here,  that  one  Englishman  can  beat  three  French- 
men, encourages,  and  has  sometimes  enabled  one 
Englishman  in  reality  to  beat  two. 

A  Frenchman  ventures  his  life  with  alacrity  pour 
Fhonneur  du  Rot  ;  were  you  to  change  the  object 
which  he  has  been  taught  to  have  in  view,  and  tell 
him  that  it  was  pour  le  bien  de  la  patrie,  he  would 


128     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

very  probably  run  away.  Such  gross  local  preju- 
dices prevail  with  the  herd  of  mankind,  and  do  not 
impose  upon  cultivated,  informed,  and  reflecting 
minds ;  but  then  there  are  notions  equally  false, 
though  not  so  glaringly  absurd,  which  are  enter- 
tained by  people  of  superior  and  improved  under- 
standings merely  for  want  of  the  necessary  pains  to 
investigate,  the  proper  attention  to  examine,  and 
the  penetration  requisite  to  determine  the  truth. 
Those  are  the  prejudices  which  I  would  have  you 
guard  against  by  a  manly  exertion  and  attention  of 
your  reasoning  faculty.  To  mention  one  instance 
of  a  thousand  that  I  could  give  you,  —  it  is  a  general 
prejudice,  and  has  been  propagated  for  these  six- 
teen hundred  years,  that  arts  and  sciences  cannot 
flourish  under  an  absolute  government,  and  that 
genius  must  necessarily  be  cramped  where  freedom 
is  restrained.  This  sounds  plausible,  but  is  false  in 
fact.  Mechanic  arts,  as  agriculture,  etc.,  will  indeed 
be  discouraged,  where  the  profits  and  property  are 
from  the  nature  of  the  government  insecure  ;  but 
why  the  despotism  of  a  government  should  cramp 
the  genius  of  a  mathematician,  an  astronomer,  a 
poet,  or  an  orator,  I  confess  I  never  could  discover. 
It  may  indeed  deprive  the  poet  or  the  orator  of 
the  liberty  of  treating  of  certain  subjects  in  the  man- 
ner they  would  wish ;  but  it  leaves  them  subjects 
enough  to  exert  genius  upon  if  they  have  it. 

Can  an  author  with  reason  complain  that  he  ib 
cramped  and  shackled  if  he  is  not  at  liberty  to 
publish  blasphemy,  bawdry,  or  sedition  ?  —  all  which 
are  equally  prohibited  in  the  freest  governments,  if 


TO  HIS  SON.  129 

they  are  wise  and  well-regulated  ones.  This  is  the 
present  general  complaint  of  the  French  authors, 
but  indeed  chiefly  of  the  bad  ones.  No  wonder, 
say  they,  that  England  produces  so  many  great 
geniuses;  people  there  may  think  as  they  please, 
and  publish  what  they  think.  Very  true ;  but  who 
hinders  them  from  thinking  as  they  please  ?  If  in- 
deed they  think  in  a  manner  destructive  of  all 
religion,  morality,  or  good  manners,  or  to  the  dis- 
turbance of  the  State,  an  absolute  government  will 
certainly  more  effectually  prohibit  them  from  or 
punish  them  for  publishing  such  thoughts  than  a 
free  one  could  do.  But  how  does  that  cramp  the 
genius  of  an  epic,  dramatic,  or  lyric  poet  ?  Or  how 
does  it  corrupt  the  eloquence  of  an  orator,  in  the 
pulpit  or  at  the  bar? 


XXXV. 

DIGNITY  OF  MANNERS   RECOMMENDED:    IN  WHAT 
IT  CONSISTS. 

London,  Aug.  10,  o.  s.  1749. 

There  is  a  certain  dignity  of  manners  absolutely 
necessary  to  make  even  the  most  valuable  character 
either  respected  or  respectable. 

Horse-play,  romping,  frequent  and  loud  fits  of 
laughter,  jokes,  waggery,  and  indiscriminate  famili- 
arity will  sink  both  merit  and  knowledge  into  a  de- 
gree of  contempt.  They  compose  at  most  a  merry 
9 


I30     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFLELD 

fellow,  and  a  merry  fellow  was  never  j^et  a  respect- 
able man.  Indiscriminate  familiarity  either  offends 
your  superiors,  or  else  dubs  you  their  dependant  and 
led  captain.  It  gives  your  inferiors  just  but  trou- 
blesome and  improper  claims  of  equality.  A  joker 
is  near  akin  to  a  buffoon,  and  neither  of  them  is  the 
least  related  to  wit.  Whoever  is  either  admitted 
or  sought  for  in  company  upon  any  other  account 
than  that  of  his  merit  and  manners,  is  never  re- 
spected there  but  only  made  use  of.  We  will  have 
such-a-one,  for  he  sings  prettily ;  we  will  invite  such- 
a-one  to  a  ball,  for  he  dances  well ;  we  will  have 
such-a-one  at  supper,  for  he  is  always  joking  and 
laughing ;  we  will  ask  another  because  he  plays  deep 
at  all  games,  or  because  he  can  drink  a  great  deal. 
These  are  all  vilifying  distinctions,  mortifying  pref- 
erences, and  exclude  all  ideas  of  esteem  and  regard. 
Whoever  is  had  (as  it  is  called)  in  company  for  the 
sake  of  any  one  thing  singly,  is  singly  that  thing,  and 
will  never  be  considered  in  any  other  light ;  conse- 
quently never  respected,  let  his  merits  be  what  they 
will. 

This  dignity  of  manners  which  I  recommend  so 
much  to  you  is  not  only  as  different  from  pride  as 
true  courage  is  from  blustering,  or  true  wit  from  jok- 
ing, but  is  absolutely  inconsistent  with  it ;  for  noth- 
ing vilifies  and  degrades  more  than  pride.  The  pre- 
tensions of  the  proud  man  are  oftener  treated  with 
sneer  and  contempt  than  with  indignation ;  as  we  offer 
ridiculously  too  little  to  a  tradesman  who  asks  ridicu- 
lously too  much  for  his  goods,  but  we  do  not  haggle 
with  one  who  only  asks  a  just  and  reasonable  price. 


TO  HIS  SON.  131 

Abject  flattery  and  indiscriminate  assentation  de- 
grade as  much  as  indiscriminate  contradiction  and 
noisy  debate  disgust.  But  a  modest  assertion  of 
one's  own  opinion  and  a  complaisant  acquiescence 
in  other  people's  preserve  dignity. 

Vulgar,  low  expressions,  awkward  motions  and 
address,  vilify ;  as  they  imply  either  a  very  low  turn 
of  mind  or  low  education  and  low  company. 

Frivolous  curiosity  about  trifles  and  laborious  at- 
tention to  little  objects,  which  neither  require  nor 
deserve  a  moment's  thought,  lower  a  man  ;  who  from 
thence  is  thought  (and  not  unjustly)  incapable  of 
greater  matters.  Cardinal  de  Retz  very  sagaciously 
marked  out  Cardinal  Chigi  for  a  little  mind  from 
the  moment  that  he  told  him  he  had  wrote  three 
years  with  the  same  pen,  and  that  it  was  an  excel- 
lent good  one  still. 


XXXVI. 

COURT  MANNERS  AND  METHODS. 

Aug.  21,  O.  S.  1749. 

You  will  soon  be  at  Courts,  where  though  you  will 
not  be  concerned,  yet  reflection  and  observation 
upon  what  you  see  and  hear  there  may  be  of  use  to 
you  when  hereafter  you  may  come  to  be  concerned 
in  courts  yourself.  Nothing  in  courts  is  exactly  as  it 
appears  to  be,  —  often  very  different,  sometimes  di- 
rectly contrary.     Interest,  which  is  the  real  spring 


132      LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

of  everything  there,  equally  creates  and  dissolves 
friendship,  produces  and  reconciles  enmities ;  or 
rather,  allows  of  neither  real  friendships  nor  enmi- 
ties ;  for  as  Dryden  very  justly  observes,  "  Politicians 
neither  love  nor  hate."  This  is  so  true  that  you  may 
think  you  connect  yourself  with  two  friends  to-day 
and  be  obliged  to-morrow  to  make  your  option  be- 
tween them  as  enemies.  Observe  therefore  such  a 
degree  of  reserve  with  your  friends  as  not  to  put 
yourself  in  their  power  if  they  should  become  your 
enemies,  and  such  a  degree  of  moderation  with 
your  enemies  as  not  to  make  it  impossible  for  them 
to  become  your  friends. 

Courts  are  unquestionably  the  seats  of  politeness 
and  good  breeding ;  were  they  not  so,  they  would 
be  the  seats  of  slaughter  and  desolation.  Those  who 
now  smile  upon  and  embrace,  would  affront  and  stab 
each  other,  if  manners  did  not  interpose  ;  but  ambi- 
tion and  avarice,  the  two  prevailing  passions  at  courts, 
found  dissimulation  more  effectual  than  violence ; 
and  dissimulation  introduced  that  habit  of  polite- 
ness which  distinguishes  the  courtier  from  the  coun- 
try gentleman.  In  the  former  case  the  strongest 
body  would  prevail ;  in  the  latter,  the  strongest 
mind. 

A  man  of  parts  and  efficiency  need  not  flatter  every- 
body at  court,  but  he  must  take  great  care  to  offend 
nobody  personally,  it  being  in  the  power  of  very 
many  to  hurt  him  who  cannot  serve  him.  Homer 
supposes  a  chain  let  down  from  Jupiter  to  the  earth 
to  connect  him  with  mortals.  There  is  at  all  courts 
a  chain  which  connects  the  prince  or  the  minister 


TO  HIS  SON.  133 

with  the  page  of  the  backstairs  or  the  chamber- 
maid. The  king's  wife,  or  mistress,  has  an  influence 
over  him ;  a  lover  has  an  influence  over  her ;  the 
chambermaid  or  the  valet  de  chambre  has  an  in- 
fluence over  both  ;  and  so  ad  infinitum.  You  must 
therefore  not  break  a  link  of  that  chain  by  which 
you  hope  to  climb  up  to  the  prince. 


XXXVII. 

ON  AWKWARDNESS   AND  ABSENCE   OF   MIND.  — DRESS. 

London,  Sept.  22,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  If  I  had  faith  in  philters  and  love 
potions  I  should  suspect  that  you  had  given  Sir 
Charles  Williams  some  by  the  manner  in  which  he 
speaks  of  you,  not  only  to  me  but  to  everybody 
else.  I  will  not  repeat  to  you  what  he  says  of  the 
extent  and  correctness  of  your  knowledge,  as  it 
might  either  make  you  vain  or  persuade  you  that 
you  had  already  enough  of  what  nobody  can  have 
too  much.  You  will  easily  imagine  how  many 
questions  I  asked,  and  how  narrowly  I  sifted 
him  upon  your  subject ;  he  answered  me,  and  I 
dare  say  with  truth,  just  as  I  could  have  wished, 
till,  satisfied  entirely  with  his  accounts  of  your 
character  and  learning,  I  inquired  into  other  matters 
intrinsically  indeed  of  less  consequence  but  still 
of  great  consequence  to  every  man,  and  of  more 
to  you  than  to  almost  any  man,  —  I  mean  your 
address,    manners,    and   air.      To   these   questions 


134    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

the  same  truth  which  he  had  observed  before 
obliged  him  to  give  me  much  less  satisfactory  an- 
swers. And  as  he  thought  himself  in  friendship 
both  to  you  and  me  obliged  to  tell  me  the  disa- 
greeable as  well  as  the  agreeable  truths,  upon  the 
same  principle  I  think  myself  obliged  to  repeat 
them  to  you. 

He  told  me  then  that  in  company  you  were 
frequently  most  provokingly  inattentive,  absent,  and 
distrait;  that  you  came  into  a  room  and  presented 
yourself  very  awkwardly ;  that  at  table  you  con- 
stantly threw  down  knives,  forks,  napkins,  bread, 
etc.,  and  that  you  neglected  your  person  and  dress 
to  a  degree  unpardonable  at  any  age,  and  much 
more  so  at  yours. 

These  things,  howsoever  immaterial  they  may 
seem  to  people  who  do  not  know  the  world  and 
the  nature  of  mankind,  give  me,  who  know  them  to 
be  exceedingly  material,  very  great  concern.  I 
have  long  distrusted  you  and  therefore  frequently 
admonished  you  upon  these  articles ;  and  I  tell  you 
plainly  that  I  shall  not  be  easy  till  I  hear  a  very 
different  account  of  them.  I  know  no  one  thing 
more  offensive  to  a  company  than  that  inattention 
and  distraction.  It  is  showing  them  the  utmost 
contempt,  and  people  never  forgive  contempt.  No 
man  is  distrait  with  the  man  he  fears  or  the  woman 
he  loves ;  which  is  a  proof  that  every  man  can  get 
the  better  of  that  distraction  when  he  thinks  it 
worth  his  while  to  do  so,  and  take  my  word  for  it 
it  is  always  worth  his  while.  For  my  own  part  I 
would  rather  be  in  company  with  a  dead  man  than 


TO  HIS  SON.  135 

with  an  absent  one ;  for  if  the  dead  man  gives  me 
no  pleasure,  at  least  he  shows  me  no  contempt ; 
whereas  the  absent  man,  silently  indeed  but  very 
plainly,  tells  me  that  he  does  not  think  me  worth 
his  attention.  Besides,  can  an  absent  man  make 
any  observations  upon  the  characters,  customs,  and 
manners  of  the  company  ?  No.  He  may  be  in  the 
best  companies  all  his  lifetime  (if  they  will  admit 
him  which  if  I  were  they  I  would  not)  and  never 
be  one  jot  the  wiser.  I  never  will  converse  with 
an  absent  man ;  one  may  as  well  talk  to  a  deaf  one. 
It  is  in  truth  a  practical  blunder  to  address  our- 
selves to  a  man  who  we  see  plainly  neither  hears, 
minds,  nor  understands  us.  Moreover,  I  aver  that 
no  man  is  in  any  degree  fit  for  either  business  or 
conversation  who  cannot  and  does  not  direct  and 
command  his  attention  to  the  present  object,  be 
that  what  it  will.  You  know  by  experience  that  I 
grudge  no  expense  in  your  education,  but  I  will 
positively  not  keep  you  a  flapper.  You  may  read 
in  Dr.  Swift  the  description  of  these  flappers  and 
the  use  they  were  of  to  your  friends  the  Laputans, 
whose  minds  (Gulliver  says)  are  so  taken  up  with 
intense  speculations  that  they  neither  can  speak  nor 
attend  to  the  discourses  of  others  without  being 
roused  by  some  external  taction  upon  the  organs  of 
speech  and  hearing ;  for  which  reason  those  people 
who  are  able  to  afford  it  always  keep  a  flapper  in 
their  family  as  one  of  their  domestics,  nor  ever 
walk  about  or  make  visits  without  him.  This  flapper 
is  likewise  employed  diligently  to  attend  his  master 
in  his  walks,  and  upon  occasion  to  give  a  soft  flap 


136    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

upon  his  eyes,  because  he  is  always  so  wrapped  up 
in  cogitation  that  he  is  in  manifest  danger  of  falUng 
down  every  precipice  and  bouncing  his  head 
against  every  post,  and  in  the  streets  of  jostUng 
others  or  being  jostled  into  the  kennel  himself.  If 
Christian  will  undertake  this  province  into  the  bar- 
gain, with  all  my  heart ;  but  1  will  not  allow  him 
any  increase  of  wages  upon  that  score.  In  short, 
I  give  you  fair  warning  that  when  we  meet,  if  you 
are  absent  in  mind  I  will  soon  be  absent  in  body, 
for  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  stay  in  the  room ; 
and  if  at  table  you  throw  down  your  knife,  plate, 
bread,  etc.,  and  hack  the  wing  of  a  chicken  for 
half  an  hour  without  being  able  to  cut  it  off,  and 
your  sleeve  all  the  time  in  another  dish,  I  must  rise 
from  table  to  escape  the  fever  you  would  certainly 
give  me.  Good  God  !  how  I  should  be  shocked 
if  you  came  into  my  room  for  the  first  time  with 
two  left  legs,  presenting  yourself  with  all  the  graces 
and  dignity  of  a  tailor,  and  your  clothes  hanging 
upon  you  like  those  in  Monmouth  Street,  upon 
tenter-hooks  !  whereas  I  expect,  nay,  require  to  see 
you  present  yourself  with  the  easy  and  genteel  air 
of  a  man  of  fashion  who  has  kept  good  company. 
I  expect  you  not  only  well  dressed  but  very  well 
dressed ;  I  expect  a  gracefulness  in  all  your  mo- 
tions and  something  particularly  engaging  in  your 
address.  All  this  I  expect,  and  all  this  it  is  in  your 
power,  by  care  and  attention,  to  make  me  find  ;  but 
to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  if  I  do  not  find  it  we 
shall  not  converse  very  much  together,  for  I  cannot 
stand  inattention  and  awkwardness,  —  it  would  en- 


TO  HIS  SON.  137 

danger  my  health.  You  have  often  seen  and  I 
have  as  often  made  you  observe  L 's  ^  distin- 
guished inattention  and  awkwardness.  Wrapped 
up  Uke  a  Laputan  in  intense  thought,  and  possibly 
sometimes  in  no  thought  at  all  (which  I  believe  is 
very  often  the  case  with  absent  people) ,  he  does  not 
know  his  most  intimate  acquaintance  by  sight  or 
answers  them  as  if  he  were  at  cross  purposes.  He 
leaves  his  hat  in  one  room,  his  sword  in  another, 
and  would  leave  his  shoes  in  a  third,  if  his  buckles 
though  awry  did  not  save  them ;  his  legs  and  arms 
by  his  awkward  management  of  them  seem  to  have 
undergone  the  question  extraordinaire;  and  his 
head  always  hanging  upon  one  or  other  of  his 
shoulders  seems  to  have  received  the  first  stroke 
upon  a  block.  I  sincerely  value  and  esteem  him 
for  his  parts,  learning,  and  virtue,  but  for  the  soul 
of  me  I  cannot  love  him  in  company.  This  will  be 
universally  the  case  in  common  life  of  every  inat- 
tentive awkward  man,  let  his  real  merit  and  knowl- 
edge be  ever  so  great.  When  I  was  of  your  age  I 
desired  to  shine  as  far  as  I  was  able  in  every  part 
of  life,  and  was  as  attentive  to  my  manners,  my 
dress,  and  my  air  in  company  of  evenings  as  to  my 
books  and  my  tutor  in  the  mornings.  A  young 
fellow  should  be  ambitious  to  shine  in  everything, 
and  of  the  two  always  rather  overdo  than  underdo. 
These  things  are  by  no  means  trifles ;  they  are  of 
infinite  consequence  to  those  who  are  to  be  thrown 
into  the  great  world  and  who  would  make  a  figure 
or  a  fortune  in  it.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  deserve 
^  Lord  Lyttleton. 


138     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

well ;  one  must  please  well  too.  Awkward,  disagree- 
able merit  will  never  carry  anybody  far.  Wherever 
you  find  a  good  dancing- master,  pray  let  him  put 
you  upon  your  haunches ;  not  so  much  for  the  sake 
of  dancing  as  for  coming  into  a  room  and  present- 
ing yourself  genteelly  and  gracefully.  Women, 
whom  you  ought  to  endeavor  to  please,  cannot  for- 
give vulgar  and  awkward  air  and  gestures ;  //  leur 
faut  du  brillant.  The  generality  of  men  are  pretty 
like  them,  and  are  equally  taken  by  the  same 
exterior  graces. 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  received  the  dia- 
mond buckles  safe ;  all  I  desire  in  return  for  them 
is  that  they  may  be  buckled  even  upon  your  feet 
and  that  your  stockings  may  not  hide  them.  I 
should  be  sorry  that  you  were  an  egregious  fop, 
but  I  protest  that  of  the  two  I  would  rather  have 
you  a  fop  than  a  sloven.  I  think  negligence  in  my 
own  dress,  even  at  my  age  when  certainly  I  expect 
no  advantages  from  my  dress,  would  be  indecent 
with  regard  to  others.  I  have  done  with  fine 
clothes,  but  I  will  have  my  plain  clothes  fit  me 
and  made  like  other  people's.  In  the  evenings  I 
recommend  to  you  the  company  of  women  of 
fashion,  who  have  a  right  to  attention  and  will  be 
paid  it.  Their  company  will  smooth  your  manners 
and  give  you  a  habit  of  attention  and  respect,  of 
which  you  will  find  the  advantage  among  men. 


TO  HIS  SON.  139 


XXXVIII. 

VULGARISMS.  —  AN  AWKWARD  MAN.— THE  MAN 
OF  TASTE. 

London,  Sept.  27,  o.  s.  1749. 

Dear  Boy,  —  A  vulgar  ordinary  way  of  thinking, 
acting,  or  speaking  implies  a  low  education  and  a 
habit  of  low  company.  Young  people  contract  it 
at  school,  or  among  servants,  with  whom  they  are 
too  often  used  to  converse ;  but  after  they  frequent 
good  company,  they  must  want  attention  and  ob- 
servation very  much  if  they  do  not  lay  it  quite 
aside.  And  indeed  if  they  do  not,  good  company 
will  be  very  apt  to  lay  them  aside.  The  various 
kinds  of  vulgarisms  are  infinite ;  I  cannot  pretend 
to  point  them  out  to  you,  but  I  will  give  some 
samples  by  which  you  may  guess  at  the  rest. 

A  vulgar  man  is  captious  and  jealous,  eager  and 
impetuous  about  trifles.  He  suspects  himself  to  be 
slighted,  thinks  everything  that  is  said  meant  at 
him.  If  the  company  happens  to  laugh,  he  is  per- 
suaded they  laugh  at  him ;  he  grows  angry  and 
testy,  says  something  very  impertinent,  and  draws 
himself  into  a  scrape  by  showing  what  he  calls  a 
proper  spirit  and  asserting  himself.  A  man  of 
fashion  does  not  suppose  himself  to  be  either  the 
sole  or  principal  object  of  the  thoughts,  looks,  or 
words  of  the  company ;  and  never  suspects  that  he 
is  either  slighted  or  laughed  at,  unless  he  is  con- 
scious that  he  deserves  it.  And  if  (which  very 
seldom  happens)  the  company  is  absurd  or  ill  bred 


I40     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

enough  to  do  either,  he  does  not  care  twopence, 
unless  the  insult  be  so  gross  and  plain  as  to  require 
satisfaction  of  another  kind.  As  he  is  above  trifles, 
he  is  never  vehement  and  eager  about  them ;  and 
wherever  they  are  concerned  rather  acquiesces  than 
wrangles.  A  vulgar  man's  conversation  always 
savors  strongly  of  the  lowness  of  his  education  and 
company.  It  turns  chiefly  upon  his  domestic 
affairs,  his  servants,  the  excellent  order  he  keeps  in 
his  own  family,  and  the  little  anecdotes  of  the 
neighborhood ;  all  which  he  relates  with  emphasis 
as  interesting  matters.     He  is  a  man  gossip. 

Vulgarism  in  language  is  the  next  and  distin- 
guishing characteristic  of  bad  company  and  a  bad 
education.  A  man  of  fashion  avoids  nothing  with 
more  care  than  that.  Proverbial  expressions  and 
trite  sayings  are  the  flowers  of  the  rhetoric  of  a 
vulgar  man.  Would  he  say  that  men  differ  in  their 
tastes,  he  both  supports  and  adorns  that  opinion 
by  the  good  old  saying,  as  he  respectfully  calls  it, 
that  "  what  is  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's 
poison."  If  anybody  attempts  being  "  smart,"  as  he 
calls  it,  upon  him,  he  gives  them  "Tit  for  Tat,"  ay, 
that  he  does.  He  has  always  some  favorite  word 
for  the  time  being,  which  for  the  sake  of  using 
often  he  commonly  abuses  :  such  as  vastly  angry, 
vastly  kind,  vastly  handsome,  and  vastly  ugly. 
Even  his  pronunciation  of  proper  words  carries  the 
mark  of  the  beast  along  with  it.  He  calls  the 
earth  yearth  ;  he  is  obleiged  not  obliged  to  you.  He 
goes  to  wards  and  not  towards  such  a  place.  He 
sometimes  affects  hard  words  by  way  of  ornament. 


TO  HIS  SON.  141 

which  he  always  mangles,  like  a  learned  woman. 
A  man  of  fashion  never  has  recourse  to  proverbs 
and  vulgar  aphorisms ;  uses  neither  favorite  words 
nor  hard  words,  but  takes  great  care  to  speak  very 
correctly  and  grammatically,  and  to  pronounce 
properly,  —  that  is,  according  to  the  usage  of  the 
best  companies. 

An  awkward  address,  ungraceful  attitudes  and 
actions,  and  a  certain  left-handedness  (if  I  may 
use  that  word),  loudly  proclaim  low  education  and 
low  company ;  for  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  that 
a  man  can  have  frequented  good  company  without 
having  catched  something  at  least  of  their  air  and 
motions.  A  new-raised  man  is  distinguished  in  a 
regiment  by  his  awkwardness ;  but  he  must  be  im- 
penetrably dull  if  in  a  month  or  two's  time  he 
cannot  perform  at  least  the  common  manual  exer- 
cise and  look  like  a  soldier.  The  very  accoutre- 
ments of  a  man  of  fashion  are  grievous  encumbrances 
to  a  vulgar  man.  He  is  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with 
his  hat  when  it  is  not  upon  his  head  ;  his  cane  (if 
unfortunately  he  wears  one)  is  at  perpetual  war 
with  every  cup  of  tea  or  coffee  he  drinks,  —  destroys 
them  first,  and  then  accompanies  them  in  their  fall. 
His  sword  is  formidable  only  to  his  own  legs,  which 
would  possibly  carry  him  fast  enough  out  of  the 
way  of  any  sword  but  his  own.  His  clothes  fit  him 
so  ill,  and  constrain  him  so  much,  that  he  seems 
rather  their  prisoner  than  their  proprietor.  He 
presents  himself  in  company  like  a  criminal  in  a 
court  of  justice ;  his  very  air  condemns  him,  and 
people  of  fashion  will  no  more  connect  themselves 


142     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

with  the  one  than  people  of  character  will  with  the 
other.  This  repulse  drives  and  sinks  him  into  low 
company,  a  gulf  from  whence  no  man,  after  a  certain 
age,  ever  emerged. 

Les  manieres  nobles  et  aisees,  la  tournure  d'un 
homme  de  condition,  le  ton  de  la  bonne  compagnie, 
les  graces,  le  je  ne  sais  quoi  qui  plait,  are  as  neces- 
sary to  adorn  and  introduce  your  intrinsic  merit 
and  knowledge  as  the  polish  is  to  the  diamond, 
which  without  that  polish  would  never  be  worn, 
whatever  it  might  weigh.  Do  not  imagine  that 
these  accomplishments  are  only  useful  with  women ; 
they  are  much  more  so  with  men.  In  a  public 
assembly  what  an  advantage  has  a  graceful  speaker 
with  genteel  motions,  a  handsome  figure,  and  a 
liberal  air,  over  one  who  shall  speak  full  as  much 
good  sense  but  destitute  of  these  ornaments  !  In 
business  how  prevalent  are  the  Graces,  how  detri- 
mental is  the  want  of  them  !  By  the  help  of  these 
I  have  known  some  men  refuse  favors  less  offen- 
sively than  others  granted  them.  The  utility  of 
them  in  Courts  and  negotiations  is  inconceivable. 
You  gain  the  hearts  and  consequently  the  secrets  of 
nine  in  ten  that  you  have  to  do  with  in  spite  even 
of  their  prudence,  —  which  will  nine  times  in  ten  be 
the  dupe  of  their  hearts  and  of  their  senses.  Con- 
sider the  importance  of  these  things  as  they  de- 
serve and  you  will  not  lose  one  minute  in  the 
pursuit  of  them. 

You  are  travelling  now  in  a  country  ^  once  so  fa- 
mous both  for  arts  and  arms  that  (however  degen- 
1  Italy. 


TO  HIS  SON.  143 

erate  at  present)  it  still  deserves  your  attention  and 
reflection.  View  it  therefore  with  care,  compare  its 
former  with  its  present  state,  and  examine  into  the 
causes  of  its  rise  and  its  decay.  Consider  it  classi- 
cally and  politically,  and  do  not  run  through  it,  as  too 
many  of  your  young  countrymen  do,  musically  and 
(to  use  a  ridiculous  word)  knick-knacktcalfy.  No  pip- 
ing nor  fiddling,  I  beseech  you ;  no  days  lost  in  por- 
ing upon  almost  imperceptible  intaglios  and  cameos  ; 
and  do  not  become  a  virtuoso  of  small  wares.  Form 
a  taste  of  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  if  you 
please,  by  a  careful  examination  of  the  works  of  the 
best  ancient  and  modern  artists ;  those  are  liberal 
arts,  and  a  real  taste  and  knowledge  of  them  be- 
come a  man  of  fashion  very  well.  But  beyond  cer- 
tain bounds  the  man  of  taste  ends,  and  the  frivolous 
virtuoso  begins. 


XXXIX. 

THREE  SORTS  OF  GOOD  BREEDING 

London,  Nov.  3,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  From  the  time  that  you  have  had 
life,  it  has  been  the  principal  and  favorite  object  of 
mine  to  make  you  as  perfect  as  the  imperfections  of 
human  nature  will  allow  ;  in  this  view  I  have  grudged 
no  pains  nor  expense  in  your  education,  convinced 
that  education  more  than  nature  is  the  cause  of  that 
great  difference  which  you  see  in  the  characters  of 
men.     While  you  were  a  child,  I  endeavored  to  form 


144    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

your  heart  habitually  to  virtue  and  honor  before 
your  understanding  was  capable  of  showing  you  their 
beauty  and  utility.  Those  principles  which  you 
then  got,  like  your  grammar  rules,  only  by  rote,  are 
now  I  am  persuaded  fixed  and  confirmed  by  reason. 
And  indeed  they  are  so  plain  and  clear  that  they  re- 
quire but  a  very  moderate  degree  of  understand- 
ing either  to  comprehend  or  practise  them.  Lord 
Shaftesbury  says  very  prettily  that  he  would  be  vir- 
tuous for  his  own  sake  though  nobody  were  to  know 
it,  as  he  would  be  clean  for  his  own  sake  though 
nobody  were  to  see  him.  I  have  therefore,  since 
you  have  had  the  use  of  your  reason,  never  written 
to  you  upon  those  subjects ;  they  speak  best  for 
themselves  ;  and  I  should  now  just  as  soon  think  of 
warning  you  gravely  not  to  fall  into  the  dirt  or  the 
fire  as  into  dishonor  or  vice.  This  view  of  mine  I 
consider  as  fully  attained.  My  next  object  was  sound 
and  useful  learning.  My  own  care  first,  Mr.  Harte's 
afterwards,  and  of  late  (I  will  own  it  to  your  praise) 
your  own  application  have  more  than  answered  my 
expectations  in  that  particular,  and  I  have  reason 
to  believe  will  answer  even  my  wishes.  All  that  re- 
mains for  me  then  to  wish,  to  recommend,  to  incul- 
cate, to  order,  and  to  insist  upon  is  good  breeding, 
without  which  all  your  other  qualifications  will  be 
lame,  unadorned,  and  to  a  certain  degree  unavailing. 
And  here  I  fear  and  have  too  much  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  you  are  greatly  deficient.  The  remainder 
of  this  letter,  therefore,  shall  be  (and  it  will  not  be 
the  last  by  a  great  many)  upon  that  subject. 

A  friend  of  yours  and  mine  has  very  justly  defined 


TO  HIS  SON. 


145 


good  breeding  to  be  "  the  result  of  much  good  sense, 
some  good-nature,  and  a  Uttle  self-denial  for  the  sake 
of  others,  and  with  a  view  to  obtain  the  same  indul- 
gence from  them."  Taking  this  for  granted  (as  I 
think  it  cannot  be  disputed),  it  is  astonishing  to  me 
that  anybody  who  has  good  sense  and  good-nature 
(and  I  believe  you  have  both)  can  essentially  fail  in 
good  breeding.  As  to  the  modes  of  it  indeed  they 
vary  according  to  persons  and  places  and  circum- 
stances, and  are  only  to  be  acquired  by  observation 
and  experience ;  but  the  substance  of  it  is  every- 
where and  eternally  the  same.  Good  manners  are 
to  particular  societies  what  good  morals  are  to  so- 
ciety in  general,  —  their  cement  and  their  security. 
And  as  laws  are  enacted  to  enforce  good  morals,  or 
at  least  to  prevent  the  ill  effects  of  bad  ones,  so  there 
are  certain  rules  of  civility  universally  implied  and 
received  to  enforce  good  manners  and  punish  bad 
ones.  And  indeed  there  seems  to  me  to  be  less  dif- 
ference both  between  the  crimes  and  between  the 
punishments  than  at  first  one  would  imagine.  The 
immoral  man  who  invades  another  man's  property 
is  justly  hanged  for  it ;  and  the  ill  bred  man  who 
by  his  ill  manners  invades  and  disturbs  the  quiet  and 
comforts  of  private  life  is  by  common  consent  as 
justly  banished  society.  Mutual  complaisances,  at- 
tentions, and  sacrifices  of  little  conveniences  are  as 
natural  an  implied  compact  between  civilized  people 
as  protection  and  obedience  are  between  kings  and 
subjects ;  whoever  in  either  case  violates  that  com- 
pact justly  forfeits  all  advantages  arising  from  it. 
For  my  own  part,  I  really  think  that  next  to  the 
10 


146    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

consciousness  of  doing  a  good  action,  that  of  doing 
a  civil  one  is  the  most  pleasing;  and  the  epithet 
which  I  should  covet  the  most,  next  to  that  of  Aris- 
tides,  would  be  that  of  well-bred.  Thus  much  for 
good  breeding  in  general ;  I  will  now  consider  some 
of  the  various  modes  and  degrees  of  it. 

Very  few,  scarcely  any,  are  wanting  in  the  respect 
which  they  should  show  to  those  whom  they  ac- 
knowledge to  be  infinitely  their  superiors,  —  such  as 
crowned  heads,  princes,  and  public  persons  of  dis- 
tinguished and  eminent  posts.  It  is  the  manner  of 
showing  that  respect  which  is  different.  The  man  of 
fashion  and  of  the  world  expresses  it  in  its  fullest 
extent,  but  naturally,  easily,  and  without  concern ; 
whereas  a  man  who  is  not  used  to  keep  good  com- 
pany, expresses  it  awkwardly.  One  sees  that  he  is  not 
used  to  it,  and  that  it  costs  him  a  great  deal ;  but  I 
never  saw  the  worst-bred  man  living  guilty  of  loUing, 
whistling,  scratching  his  head,  and  such-like  indecen- 
cies in  company  that  he  respected.  In  such  com- 
panies, therefore,  the  only  point  to  be  attended  to  is 
to  show  that  respect  which  everybody  means  to 
show  in  an  easy,  unembarrassed,  and  graceful  man- 
ner. This  is  what  observation  and  experience  must 
teach  you. 

In  mixed  companies  whoever  is  admitted  to  make 
part  of  them  is  for  the  time  at  least  supposed  to  be 
upon  a  footing  of  equality  with  the  rest ;  and  conse- 
quently as  there  is  no  one  principal  object  of  awe 
and  respect,  people  are  apt  to  take  a  greater  latitude 
in  their  behavior  and  to  be  less  upon  their  guard ; 
and   so  they  may,  provided   it   be  within  certain 


TO  HIS  SON.  147 

bounds  which  are  upon  no  occasion  to  be  trans- 
gressed. But  upon  these  occasions,  though  no  one 
is  entitled  to  distinguished  marks  of  respect,  every 
one  claims,  and  very  justly,  every  mark  of  civility 
and  good  breeding.  Ease  is  allowed,  but  careless- 
ness and  negligence  are  strictly  forbidden.  If  a  man 
accosts  you  and  talks  to  you  ever  so  dully  or  frivol- 
ously, it  is  worse  than  rudeness,  it  is  brutality  to  show 
him  by  a  manifest  inattention  to  what  he  says  that 
you  think  him  a  fool  or  a  blockhead,  and  not  worth 
hearing.  It  is  much  more  so  with  regard  to  women  ; 
who,  of  whatever  rank  they  are,  are  entitled  in  con- 
sideration of  their  sex  not  only  to  an  attentive  but 
an  officious  good  breeding  from  men.  Their  little 
wants,  likings,  dislikes,  preferences,  antipathies,  fan- 
cies, whims,  and  even  impertinencies  must  be  offi- 
ciously attended  to,  flattered,  and  if  possible,  guessed 
at  and  anticipated  by  a  well-bred  man.  You  must 
never  usurp  to  yourself  those  conveniences  and  agri- 
mens  which  are  of  common  right,  such  as  the  best 
places,  the  best  dishes,  etc.,  but  on  the  contrary  al- 
ways decline  them  yourself  and  offer  them  to  others, 
who  in  their  turns  will  offer  them  to  you  ;  so  that 
upon  the  whole  you  will  in  your  turn  enjoy  your  share 
of  the  common  right.  It  would  be  endless  for  me  to 
enumerate  all  the  particular  instances  in  which  a  well- 
bred  man  shows  his  good  breeding  in  good  company, 
and  it  would  be  injurious  to  you  to  suppose  that  your 
own  good  sense  will  not  point  them  out  to  you  ;  and 
then  your  own  good-nature  will  recommend,  and  your 
self-interest  enforce  the  practice. 

There  is  a  third  sort  of  good  breeding  in  which 


148    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

people  are  the  most  apt  to  fail  from  a  very  mis- 
taken notion  that  they  cannot  fail  at  all,  —  I  mean 
with  regard  to  one's  most  familiar  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, or  those  who  really  are  our  inferiors  ; 
and  there  undoubtedly  a  greater  degree  of  ease  is 
not  only  allowed  but  proper,  and  contributes  much 
to  the  comforts  of  a  private  social  life.     But  that 
ease    and    freedom   have   their  bounds   too,   which 
must  by  no  means  be  violated.     A  certain  degree 
of  negligence   and   carelessness    becomes  injurious 
and  insulting  from  the  real  or  supposed  inferiority 
of  the  persons ;   and  that  delightful  liberty  of  con- 
versation among  a  few  friends  is  soon  destroyed,  as 
liberty  often  has  been,  by  being  carried  to  licen- 
tiousness.    But  example  explains  things  best,  and  I 
will  put  a  pretty  strong  case.     Suppose  you  and  me 
alone  together ;  I  believe  you  will  allow  that  I  have 
as  good  a  right  to  unlimited  freedom  in  your  com- 
pany as  either  you  or  I  can  possibly  have  in  any 
other,  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  too  that  you  would 
indulge    me    in    that    freedom    as    far   as  anybody 
would.     But  notwithstanding  this,  do  you  imagine 
that  I  should  think  there  were  no  bounds  to  that 
freedom  ?     I  assure  you  I  should  not  think  so  ;   and 
I  take  myself  to  be  as  much  tied  down  by  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  good  manners  to  you  as   by  other 
degrees  of  them  to  other  people.     Were  I  to  show 
you  by  a  manifest  inattention  to  what  you  said  to 
me  that  I  was  thinking  of  something  else  the  whole 
time  ;  were  I  to  yawn  extremely  or  snore  in  your 
company,  I  should  think  that  I  behaved  myself  to 
you  like  a  beast  and  should  not  expect  that  you 


TO  HIS  SON.  149 

would  care  to  frequent  me.  No ;  the  most  famil- 
iar and  intimate  habitudes,  connections,  and  friend- 
ships require  a  degree  of  good  breeding  both  to 
preserve  and  cement  them.  If  ever  a  man  and  his 
wife,  who  pass  nights  as  well  as  days  together,  abso- 
lutely lay  aside  all  good  breeding,  their  intimacy 
will  soon  degenerate  into  a  coarse  familiarity  in- 
fallibly productive  of  contempt  or  disgust.  The 
best  of  us  have  our  bad  sides,  and  it  is  as  impru- 
dent as  it  is  ill  bred  to  exhibit  them.  I  shall  cer- 
tainly not  use  ceremony  with  you ;  it  would  be 
misplaced  between  us  ;  but  I  shall  certainly  observe 
that  degree  of  good  breeding  with  you  which  is  in 
the  first  place  decent,  and  which  I  am  sure  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  make  us  like  one  another's 
company  long. 

I  will  say  no  more  now  upon  this  important  sub- 
ject of  good  breeding,  which  I  have  already  dwelt 
upon  too  long,  it  may  be,  for  one  letter,  and  upon 
which  I  shall  frequently  refresh  your  memory  here- 
after ;    but  I  will  conclude  with  these  axioms : 

That  the  deepest  learning  without  good  breeding 
is  unwelcome  and  tiresome  pedantry  and  of  no  use 
nowhere  but  in  a  man's  own  closet,  and  conse- 
quently, of  little  or  no  use  at  all. 

That  a  man  who  is  not  perfectly  well  bred  is  un- 
fit for  good  company  and  unwelcome  in  it,  will 
consequently  dislike  it  soon,  afterwards  renounce  it; 
and  be  reduced  to  solitude  or  (what  is  worse)  low 
and  bad  company. 

That  a  man  who  is  not  well  bred  is  full  as  unfit 
for  business  as  for  company. 


150    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

Make  then,  my  dear  child,  I  conjure  you,  good 
breeding  the  great  object  of  your  thoughts  and  ac- 
tions, at  least  half  the  day.  Observe  carefully  the 
behavior  and  manners  of  those  who  are  distin- 
guished by  their  good  breeding;  imitate,  nay,  en- 
deavor to  excel,  that  you  may  at  last  reach  them  \ 
and  be  convinced  that  good  breeding  is  to  all 
worldly  qualifications  what  charity  is  to  all  Chris- 
tian virtues.  Observe  how  it  adorns  merit,  and 
how  often  it  covers  the  want  of  it.  May  you  wear 
it  to  adorn  and  not  to  cover  you !     Adieu. 


XL. 


THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 

London,  N^ov-  14,  o  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  There  is  a  natural  good  breeding 
which  occurs  to  every  man  of  common-sense  and 
is  practised  by  every  man  of  common  good-nature. 
This  good  breeding  is  general,  independent  of 
modes,  and  consists  in  endeavors  to  please  and 
oblige  our  fellow-creatures  by  all  good  offices  short 
of  moral  duties.  This  will  be  practised  by  a  good- 
natured  American  savage  as  essentially  as  by  the 
best-bred  European.  But  then  I  do  not  take  it  to 
extend  to  the  sacrifice  of  our  own  conveniences  for 
the  sake  of  other  people's.  Utility  introduced  this 
sort  of  good  breeding  as  it  introduced  commerce, 
and  established  a  truck  ^  of  the  little  agremens  and 

1  Barter. 


TO  HIS  SON.  151 

pleasures  of  life,  I  sacrifice  such  a  conveniency  to 
you,  you  sacrifice  another  to  me ;  this  commerce 
circulates,  and  every  individual  finds  his  account  in 
it  upon  the  whole.  The  third  sort  of  good  breeding 
is  local  and  is  variously  modified  in  not  only 
different  countries  but  in  different  towns  of  the 
same  country.  But  it  must  be  founded  upon  the 
two  former  sorts ;  they  are  the  matter  to  which,  in 
this  case,  fashion  and  custom  only  give  the  different 
shapes  and  impressions.  Whoever  has  the  two 
first  sorts  will  easily  acquire  this  third  sort  of  good 
breeding,  which  depends  singly  upon  attention  and 
observation.  It  is  properly  the  polish,  the  lustre, 
the  last  finishing  stroke  of  good  breeding.  It  is  to 
be  found  only  in  capitals,  and  even  there  it  varies,  — 
the  good  breeding  of  Rome  differing  in  some  things 
from  that  of  Paris ;  that  of  Paris  in  others  from  that 
of  Madrid ;  and  that  of  Madrid  in  many  things 
from  that  of  London.  A  man  of  sense,  therefore, 
carefully  attends  to  the  local  manners  of  the  re- 
spective places  where  he  is  and  takes  for  his 
models  those  persons  whom  he  observes  to  be  at 
the  head  of  fashion  and  good  breeding.  He 
watches  how  they  address  themselves  to  their  supe- 
riors, how  they  accost  their  equals,  and  how  they 
treat  their  inferiors ;  and  lets  none  of  those  little 
niceties  escape  him  which  are  to  good  breeding 
•  what  the  last  delicate  and  masterly  touches  are  to  a 
good  picture,  and  of  which  the  vulgar  have  no 
notion,  but  by  which  good  judges  distinguish  the 
master.  He  attends  even  to  their  air,  dress,  and 
motions,  and  imitates  them  liberally  and  not  ser- 


152     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

vilely ;  he  copies  but  does  not  mimic.  These  per- 
sonal graces  are  of  very  great  consequence.  They 
anticipate  the  sentiments  before  merit  can  engage 
the  understanding ;  they  captivate  the  heart,  and 
gave  rise  I  believe  to  the  extravagant  notions  of 
charms  and  philters.  Their  eifects  were  so  sur- 
prising that  they  were  reckoned  supernatural.  The 
most  graceful  and  best-bred  men  and  the  hand- 
somest and  genteelest  women  give  the  most  philters, 
and  as  I  verily  believe  without  the  least  assistance 
of  the  devil.  Pray  be  not  only  well  dressed  but 
shining  in  your  dress;  let  it  have  du  brillani ;  I 
do  not  mean  by  a  clumsy  load  of  gold  and  silver, 
but  by  the  taste  and  fashion  of  it.  Women  like 
and  require  it ;  they  think  it  an  attention  due  to 
them.  But  on  the  other  hand  if  your  motions  and 
carriage  are  not  graceful,  genteel,  and  natural,  your 
fine  clothes  will  only  display  your  awkwardness  the 
more.  But  I  am  unwilling  to  suppose  you  still 
awkward,  for  surely  by  this  time  you  must  have 
catched  a  good  air  in  good  company.  When  you 
went  from  hence  you  were  naturally  awkward,  but 
your  awkwardness  was  adventitious  and  Westmonas- 
terial.  Leipsic,  I  apprehend,  is  not  the  seat  of  the 
Graces,  and  I  presume  you  acquired  none  there. 
But  now  if  you  will  be  pleased  to  observe  what  peo- 
ple of  the  first  fashion  do  with  their  legs  and  arms, 
heads  and  bodies,  you  will  reduce  yours  to  certain 
decent  laws  of  motion.  You  danced  pretty  well 
here  and  ought  to  dance  very  well  before  you  come 
home  ;  for  what  one  is  obliged  to  do  sometimes 
one  ought  to  be  able  to  do  well.     Besides,  la  belle 


TO  HIS  SON.  153 

danse  donne  du  brillant  a  un  jeune  homtne,  and 
you  should  endeavor  to  shine.  A  calm  serenity, 
negative  merit  and  graces,  do  not  become  your  age. 
You  should  be  alerte,  adroit,  vif ;  be  wanted, 
talked  of,  impatiently  expected,  and  unwillingly 
parted  with  in  company,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear 
half  a  dozen  women  of  fashion  say,  "  Ou  est  done  le 
petit  Stanhope?  Que  ne  vient-il?  II  faut  avouer 
qu'il  est  aimable."  All  this  I  do  not  mean  singly 
with  regard  to  women  as  the  principal  object,  but 
with  regard  to  men  and  with  a  view  of  your  making 
yourself  considerable.  For  with  very  small  varia- 
tions the  same  things  that  please  women  please 
men,  and  a  man  whose  manners  are  softened  and 
polished  by  women  of  fashion  and  who  is  formed 
by  them  to  an  habitual  attention  and  complaisance, 
will  please,  engage,  and  connect  men  much  easier 
and  more  than  he  would  otherwise.  You  must  be 
sensible  that  you  cannot  rise  in  the  world  without 
forming  connections  and  engaging  different  charac- 
ters to  conspire  in  your  point.  You  must  make 
them  your  dependants  without  their  knowing  it,, 
and  dictate  to  them  while  you  seem  to  be  directed 
by  them.  Those  necessary  connections  can  never 
be  formed  or  preserved  but  by  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  complaisance,  attentions,  politeness,  and 
some  constraint.  You  must  engage  their  hearts  if 
you  would  have  their  support ;  you  must  watch  the 
mollia  tempora,  and  captivate  them  by  the  agr^mens 
and  charms  of  conversation.  People  will  not  be 
called  out  to  your  service  only  when  you  want  them  ; 
and  if  you  expect  to  receive  strength  from  them. 


154    LETTERS  OF  LORD  CHESTERFIELD 

they   must   receive   either    pleasure   or   advantage 
from  you. 


XLI. 

GOOD  BREEDING  IMPORTANT  IN  DIPLOMACY. —CIV- 
ILITY TOWARD  WOMEN.  —  ILLUSTRATION  DRAWN 
FROM   ARCHITECTURE. 

[A'b  date.\ 

Dear  Boy,  —  My  last  was  upon  the  subject  of 
good  breeding,  but  I  think  it  rather  set  before  you 
the  unfitness  and  disadvantages  of  ill  breeding  than 
the  utility  and  necessity  of  good ;  it  was  rather 
negative  than  positive.  This  therefore  should  go 
further  and  explain  to  you  the  necessity  which  you 
of  all  people  living  lie  under,  not  only  of  being 
positively  and  actively  well  bred  but  of  shining 
and  distinguishing  yourself  by  your  good  breeding. 
Consider  your  own  situation  in  every  particular  and 
judge  whether  it  is  not  essentially  your  interest  by 
your  own  good  breeding  to  others  to  secure  theirs 
to  you ;  and  that,  let  me  assure  you,  is  the  only  way 
of  doing  it ;  for  people  will  repay,  and  with  interest 
too,  inattention  with  inattention,  neglect  with  ne- 
glect, and  ill  manners  with  worse,  —  which  may 
engage  you  in  very  disagreeable  affairs.  In  the 
next  place  your  profession  requires  more  than  any 
other  the  nicest  and  most  distinguished  good  breed- 
ing. You  will  negotiate  with  very  little  success  if 
you  do  not  previously  by  your  manners  conciliate 
and  engage  the  affections  of  those  with  whom  you 


TO  HIS  SON.  155 

are  to  negotiate.  Can  you  ever  get  into  the  confi- 
dence and  the  secrets  of  the  Courts  where  you  may 
happen  to  reside,  if  you  have  not  those  pleasing, 
insinuating  manners  which  alone  can  procure  them  ? 
Upon  my  word  I  do  not  say  too  much  when  I  say 
that  superior  good  breeding,  insinuating  manners, 
and  genteel  address  are  half  your  business.  Your 
knowledge  will  have  but  very  little  influence  upon 
the  mind  if  your  manners  prejudice  the  heart 
against  you ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  how  easily 
will  you  dupe  the  understanding  where  you  have 
first  engaged  the  heart  !  and  hearts  are  by  no 
means  to  be  gained  by  that  mere  common  civihty 
which  everybody  practises.  Bowing  again  to  those 
who  bow  to  you,  answering  dryly  those  who  speak 
to  you,  and  saying  nothing  offensive  to  anybody 
is  such  negative  good  breeding  that  it  is  only  not 
being  a  brute.  It  is  an  active,  cheerful,  officious, 
seducing  good  breeding  that  must  gain  you  the 
good  will  and  first  sentiments  of  men  and  the  affec- 
tions of  the  women.  You  must  carefully  watch  and 
attend  to  their  passions,  their  tastes,  their  little  hu- 
mors and  weaknesses,  and  aller  au  devant.  You 
must  do  it  at  the  same  time  with  alacrity  and  em- 
pressement,  and  not  as  if  you  graciously  conde- 
scended to  humor  their  weaknesses. 

For  instance,  suppose  you  invited  anybody  to  dine 
or  sup  with  you,  you  ought  to  recollect  if  you  had 
observed  that  they  had  any  favorite  dish  and  take 
care  to  provide  it  for  them  :  and  when  it  came  you 
should  say,  "  You  seemed  to  me  at  such  and  such  a 
place  to  give  this  dish  a  preference,  and  therefore  I 


156    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

ordered  it.  This  is  the  wine  that  I  observed  you 
liked  and  therefore  I  procured  some."  The  more 
trifling  these  things  are  the  more  they  prove  your 
attention  for  the  person  and  are  consequently  the 
more  engaging.  Consult  your  own  breast  and  rec- 
ollect how  these  little  attentions  when  shown  you  by 
others  flatter  that  degree  of  self-love  and  vanity 
from  which  no  man  living  is  free.  Reflect  how 
they  incline  and  attract  you  to  that  person  and  how 
you  are  propitiated  afterwards  to  all  which  that  per- 
son says  or  does.  The  same  causes  will  have  the 
same  effects  in  your  favor.  Women  in  a  great  de- 
gree establish  or  destroy  every  man's  reputation  of 
good  breeding ;  you  must,  therefore,  in  a  manner 
overwhelm  them  with  these  attentions,  —  they  are 
used  to  them,  they  expect  them,  and  to  do  them 
justice,  they  commonly  requite  them.  You  must 
be  sedulous  and  rather  over-officious  than  under  in 
procuring  them  their  coaches,  their  chairs,  their 
conveniences  in  public  places ;  not  see  what  you 
should  not  see,  and  rather  assist  where  you  cannot 
help  seeing.  Opportunities  of  showing  these  atten- 
tions present  themselves  perpetually ;  but  if  they 
do  not,  make  them.  As  Ovid  advises  his  lover, 
when  he  sits  in  the  Circus  near  his  mistress,  to  wipe 
the  dust  off"  her  neck  even  if  there  be  none  :  "  Si 
nullus,  tamen  excute  nullum."  Your  conversation 
with  women  should  always  be  respectful,  but  at  the 
same  time  enjoui,  and  always  addressed  to  their 
vanity.  Everything  you  say  or  do  should  convince 
them  of  the  regard  you  have  (whether  you  have  it 
or  not)  for  their  beauty,  their  wit,  or  their  merit. 


TO  HIS  SON.  157 

Men  have  possibly  as  much  vanity  as  women,  though 
of  another  kind ;  and  both  art  and  good  breeding 
require  that  instead  of  mortifying,  you  should  please 
and  flatter  it  by  words  and  looks  of  approbation. 
Suppose  (which  is  by  no  means  improbable)  that 
at  your  return  to  England  I  should  place  you  near 
the  person  of  some  one  of  the  royal  family ;  in  that 
situation,  good  breeding,  engaging  address,  adorned 
with  all  the  graces  that  dwell  at  Courts,  would  very 
probably  make  you  a  favorite  and  from  a  favorite  a 
minister ;  but  all  the  knowledge  and  learning  in  the 
world  without  them  never  would.  The  penetration 
of  princes  seldom  goes  deeper  than  the  surface.  It 
is  the  exterior  that  always  engages  their  hearts,  and 
I  would  never  advise  you  to  give  yourself  much 
trouble  about  their  understanding.  Princes  in  gen- 
eral (I  mean  those  Porphyrogenets '  who  are  born 
and  bred  in  purple)  are  about  the  pitch  of  women, 
bred  up  like  them,  and  are  to  be  addressed  and 
gained  in  the  same  manner.  They  always  see,  they 
seldom  weigh.  Your  lustre,  not  your  solidity,  must 
take  them  ;  your  inside  will  afterwards  support  and 
secure  what  your  outside  has  acquired.  With  weak 
people  (and  they  undoubtedly  are  three  parts  in 
four  of  mankind)  good  breeding,  address,  and  man- 
ners are  everything;  they  can  go  no  deeper;  but 
let  me  assure   you  that  they  are  a  great  deal  even 

1  An  apartment  of  the  Byzantine  palace  was  lined  with 
porphyry;  it  was  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  pregnant  em- 
presses, and  the  royal  birth  of  their  children  was  expressed 
by  the  appellation  of  "  Porphyrogenite,"  or  Born  in  the  Pur- 
ple.—  Gibbon  :  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  cb. 
xlviii. 


158     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

with  people  of  the  best  understandings.  Where  the 
eyes  are  not  pleased  and  the  heart  is  not  flattered, 
the  mind  will  be  apt  to  stand  out.  Be  this  right  or 
wrong,  I  confess  I  am  so  made  myself.  Awkward- 
ness and  ill  breeding  shock  me  to  that  degree,  that 
where  I  meet  with  them  I  cannot  find  in  my  heart 
to  inquire  into  the  intrinsic  merit  of  that  person ; 
1  hastily  decide  in  myself  that  he  can  have  none, 
and  am  not  sure  that  I  should  not  even  be  sorry  to 
know  that  he  had  any.  I  often  paint  you  in  my 
imagination  in  your  present  lontananza,  and  while 
I  view  you  in  the  light  of  ancient  and  modem 
learning,  useful  and  ornamental  knowledge,  I  am 
charmed  with  the  prospect ;  but  when  I  view  you 
in  another  light,  and  represent  you  awkward,  un- 
graceful, ill  bred,  with  vulgar  air  and  manners, 
shambling  towards  me  with  inattention  and  distrac- 
tions, I  shall  not  pretend  to  describe  to  you  what 
I  feel,  but  will  do  as  a  skilful  painter  did  formerly,  — 
draw  a  veil  before  the  countenance  of  the  father.^ 

I  dare  say  you  know  already  enough  of  Architec- 
ture to  know  that  the  Tuscan  is  the  strongest  and  most 
solid  of  all  the  Orders ;  but  at  the  same  time,  it  is  the 
coarsest  and  clumsiest  of  them.  Its  solidity  does  ex- 
tremely well  for  the  foundation  and  base  floor  of  a 
great  edifice ;  but  if  the  whole  building  be  Tuscan, 
it  will  attract  no  eyes,  it  will  stop  no  passengers,  it 
will  invite  no  interior  examination.  People  will  take 
it  for  granted  that  the  finishing  and  furnishing  can- 
not be  worth  seeing  where  the  front  is  so  unadorned 

1  Probably  an  allusion  to  Timanthes'  painting  of  the  sac- 
rifice of  Iphigeneia. 


TO  HIS  SON.  159 

and  clumsy.  But  if  upon  the  solid  Tuscan  founda- 
tion, the  Doric,  the  Ionic,  and  the  Corinthian  Orders 
rise  gradually  with  all  their  beauty,  proportions,  and 
ornaments,  the  fabric  seizes  the  most  incurious  eye 
and  stops  the  most  careless  passenger,  who  solicits 
admission  as  a  favor,  nay,  often  purchases  it.  Just 
so  will  it  fare  with  your  little  fabric,  which  at  pres- 
ent I  fear  has  more  of  the  Tuscan  than  of  the  Cor- 
inthian Order.  You  must  absolutely  change  the 
whole  front,  or  nobody  will  knock  at  the  door.  The 
several  parts  which  must  compose  this  new  front  are 
elegant,  easy,  natural,  superior  good  breeding;  an 
engaging  address ;  genteel  motions ;  an  insinuating^ 
softness  in  your  looks,  words,  and  actions ;  a  spruce, 
lively  air,  fashionable  dress ;  and  all  the  glitter  that 
a  young  fellow  should  have. 

I  am  sure  you  would  do  a  great  deal  for  my  sake ; 
and  therefore  consider,  at  your  return  here,  what  a 
disappointment  and  concern  it  would  be  to  me,  if  I 
could  not  safely  depute  you  to  do  the  honors  of  my 
house  and  table,  and  if  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
present  you  to  those  who  frequent  both.  Should 
you  be  awkward,  inattentive,  and  distrait,  and  hap- 
pen to  meet  Mr.  L  [yttleton]  at  my  table,  the  con- 
sequences of  that  meeting  must  be  fatal ;  you  would 
run  your  heads  against  each  other,  cut  each  other's 
fingers  instead  of  your  meat,  or  die  by  the  precipi- 
tate infusion  of  scalding  soup. 

This  is  really  so  copious  a  subject  that  there  is  no 
end  of  being  either  serious  or  ludicrous  upon  it.  It 
is  impossible,  too,  to  enumerate  or  state  to  you  the 
various  cases  in  good  breeding;   they  are  infinite. 


l6o    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

There  is  no  situation  or  relation  in  the  world  so  re- 
mote or  so  intimate  that  does  not  require  a  degree 
of  it.  Your  own  good  sense  must  point  it  out  to 
you ;  your  own  good-nature  must  incline,  and  your 
interest  prompt  you  to  practise  it ;  and  observation 
and  experience  must  give  you  the  manner,  the  air, 
and  the  graces  which  complete  the  whole. 

I  have  often  asserted  that  the  profoundest  learn- 
ing and  the  politest  manners  were  by  no  means  in- 
compatible, though  so  seldom  found  united  in  the 
same  person  ;  and  I  have  engaged  myself  to  exhibit 
you  as  a  proof  of  the  truth  of  this  assertion.  Should 
you,  instead  of  that,  happen  to  disprove  me,  the  con- 
cern indeed  would  be  mine,  but  the  loss  will  be  yours. 
Lord  Bolingbroke  is  a  strong  instance  on  my  side  of 
the  question ;  he  joins  to  the  deepest  erudition  the 
most  elegant  politeness  and  good  breeding  that  ever 
any  courtier  and  man  of  the  world  was  adorned  with, 
and  Pope  very  justly  called  him  "all-accomplished 
St.  John,"  with  regard  to  his  knowledge  and  his 
manners.  He  had,  it  is  true,  his  faults,  which  pro- 
ceeded from  unbounded  ambition  and  impetuous 
passions,  but  they  have  now  subsided  by  age  and 
experience  ;  and  I  can  wish  you  nothing  better  than 
to  be  what  he  is  now,  without  being  what  he  has  been 
formerly.  His  address  pre-engages,  his  eloquence 
persuades,  and  his  knowledge  informs  all  who  ap- 
proach him.  Upon  the  whole,  I  do  desire  and 
insist  that  from  after  dinner  till  you  go  to  bed,  you 
make  good  breeding,  address,  and  manners  your 
serious  object  and  your  only  care.     Without  them, 


TO  HIS  SON.  l6l 

you  will  be  nobody ;  with  them,  you  may  be  any- 
thing. 

Adieu,  my  dear  child.     My  compliments  to  Mr, 
Harte. 


XLII. 

GREAT    EVENTS   FROM  TRIVIAL  CAUSES.  —  HOW  TO 
SHINE  AS  AN  ORATOR. 

London,  Dec.  5,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  Those  who  suppose  that  men  in 
general  act  rationally  because  they  are  called  ra- 
tional creatures  know  very  little  of  the  world,  and 
if  they  act  themselves  upon  that  supposition  will 
nine  times  in  ten  find  themselves  grossly  mistaken. 
That  man  is  animal  bipes,  implume,  risibile,  I  en- 
tirely agree ;  but  for  the  rationale,  I  can  only  allow 
it  him  in  actu  prima  (to  talk  logic)  and  seldom 
in  actu  secundo.  Thus  the  speculative,  cloistered 
pedant  in  his  solitary  cell  forms  systems  of  things 
as  they  should  be,  not  as  they  are  \  and  writes  as 
decisively  and  absurdly  upon  war,  politics,  manners, 
and  characters  as  that  pedant  talked  who  was  so 
kind  as  to  instruct  Hannibal  in  the  art  of  war. 
Such  closet  politicians  never  fail  to  assign  the  deep- 
est motives  for  the  most  trifling  actions  instead  of 
often  ascribing  the  greatest  actions  to  the  most 
trifling  causes,  in  which  they  would  be  much  sel- 
domer  mistaken.  They  read  and  write  of  kings, 
heroes,  and  statesmen  as  never  doing  anything 
but  upon  the  deepest  principles  of  sound  policy. 


1 62     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

But  those  who  see  and  observe  kings,  heroes,  and 
statesmen  discover  that  they  have  headaches,  in- 
digestions, humors,  and  passions,  just  like  other 
people,  every  one  of  which  in  their  turns  determine 
their  wills  in  defiance  of  their  reason.  Had  we  only 
read  in  the  Life  of  Alexander  that  he  burnt  Perse- 
polis,  it  would  doubtless  have  been  accounted  for 
from  deep  policy ;  we  should  have  been  told  that 
his  new  conquest  could  not  have  been  secured  with- 
out the  destruction  of  that  capital  which  would  have 
been  the  constant  seat  of  cabals,  conspiracies,  and 
revolts.  But  luckily  we  are  informed  at  the  same 
time  that  this  hero,  this  demi-god,  this  son  and  heir 
of  Jupiter  Ammon,  happened  to  get  extremely 
drunk  with  his  mistress,  and  by  way  of  frohc  de- 
stroyed one  of  the  finest  cities  in  the  world.  Read 
men,  therefore,  yourself,  not  in  books  but  in  nature. 
Adopt  no  systems  but  study  them  yourself.  Ob- 
serve their  weaknesses,  their  passions,  their  humors, 
of  all  which  their  understandings  are  nine  times  in 
ten  the  dupes.  You  will  then  know  that  they  are 
to  be  gained,  influenced,  or  led  much  oftener  by 
little  things  than  by  great  ones ;  and  consequently 
you  will  no  longer  think  those  things  little  which 
tend  to  such  great  purposes. 

Let  us  apply  this  now  to  the  particular  object  of 
this  letter,  —  I  mean  speaking  in  and  influencing 
public  assemblies.  The  nature  of  our  constitution 
makes  eloquence  more  useful  and  more  necessary 
in  this  country  than  in  any  other  in  Europe.  A 
certain  degree  of  good  sense  and  knowledge  is  re- 
quisite for  that  as  well  as  for  everything  else ;  but 


TO  HIS  SON.  163 

beyond  that,  the  purity  of  diction,  the  elegance  of 
style,  the  harmony  of  periods,  a  pleasing  elocution, 
and  a  graceful  action  are  the  things  which  a  pubHc 
speaker  should  attend  to  the  most,  because  his 
audience  certainly  does,  and  understands  them  the 
best,  or  rather  indeed  understands  little  else.  The 
late  Lord  Chancellor  Cowper's  strength  as  an  ora- 
tor lay  by  no  means  in  his  reasonings,  for  he  often 
hazarded  very  weak  ones.  But  such  was  the  purity 
and  elegance  of  his  style,  such  the  propriety  and 
charms  of  his  elocution,  and  such  the  gracefulness 
of  his  action,  that  he  never  spoke  without  universal 
applause ;  the  ears  and  the  eyes  gave  him  up  the 
hearts  and  the  understandings  of  the  audience.  On 
the  contrary,  the  late  Lord  Townshend  always  spoke 
materially,  with  argument  and  knowledge,  but  never 
pleased.  Why?  His  diction  was  not  only  inele- 
gant but  frequently  ungrammatical,  always  vulgar, 
his  cadences  false,  his  voice  unharmonious,  and  his 
action  ungraceful.  Nobody  heard  him  with  pa- 
tience, and  the  young  fellows  used  to  joke  upon 
him  and  repeat  his  inaccuracies.  The  late  Duke  of 
Argyle,*  though  the  weakest  reasoner,  was  the  most 
pleasing  speaker  I  ever  knew  in  my  life ;  he 
charmed,  he  warmed,  he  forcibly  ravished  the  audi- 
ence,—  not  by  his  matter  certainly,  but  by  his 
manner  of  delivering  it.  A  most  genteel  figure,  a 
graceful,  noble  air,  an  harmonious  voice,  an  ele- 
gance of  style,  and  a  strength  of  emphasis  conspired 

^  Of  whom  Thomson  wrote,  — 

"  From  his  rich  tongue 

Persuasion  flows  and  wins  the  high  debate." 


164    LETTERS   OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

to  make  him  the  most  affecting,  persuasive,  and 
applauded  speaker  I  ever  saw.  I  was  captivated 
like  others ;  but  when  I  came  home  and  coolly  con- 
sidered what  he  had  said,  stripped  of  all  those 
ornaments  in  which  he  had  dressed  it,  I  often  found 
the  matter  flimsy,  the  arguments  weak,  and  I  was 
convinced  of  the  power  of  those  adventitious  con- 
curring circumstances  which  ignorance  of  mankind 
only  calls  trifling  ones.  Cicero  in  his  book  de  Ora- 
tore,  in  order  to  raise  the  dignity  of  that  profession 
which  he  well  knew  himself  to  be  at  the  head  of, 
asserts  that  a  complete  orator  must  be  a  complete 
everything,  lawyer,  philosopher,  divine,  etc.  That 
would  be  extremely  well  if  it  were  possible,  but 
man's  life  is  not  long  enough ;  and  I  hold  him  to 
be  the  completest  orator  who  speaks  the  best  upon 
that  subject  which  occurs,  —  whose  happy  choice  of 
words,  whose  lively  imagination,  whose  elocution 
and  action  adorn  and  grace  his  matter  at  the  same 
time  that  they  excite  the  attention  and  engage  the 
passions  of  his  audience. 

You  will  be  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  soon  as 
you  are  of  age ;  and  you  must  first  make  a  figure 
there,  if  you  would  make  a  figure  or  a  fortune  in 
your  country.  This  you  can  never  do  without  that 
correctness  and  elegance  in  your  own  language 
which  you  now  seem  to  neglect  and  which  you  have 
entirely  to  learn.  Fortunately  for  you,  it  is  to  be 
learned.  Care  and  observation  will  do  it ;  but  do 
not  flatter  yourself  that  all  the  knowledge,  sense, 
and  reasoning  in  the  world  will  ever  make  you  a 
popular  and  applauded  speaker  without  the  orna- 


TO  HIS  SON.  165 

ments  and  the  graces  of  style,  elocution,  and  action. 
Sense  and  argument,  though  coarsely  delivered,  will 
have  their  weight  in  a  private  conversation  with  two 
or  three  people  of  sense  ;  but  in  a  public  assembly 
they  will  have  none,  if  naked  and  destitute  of  the 
advantages  I  have  mentioned.  Cardinal  de  Retz 
observes  very  justly  that  every  numerous  assembly 
is  a  mob,  influenced  by  their  passions,  humors,  and 
affections,  which  nothing  but  eloquence  ever  did  or 
ever  can  engage.  This  is  so  important  a  considera- 
tion for  everybody  in  this  country,  and  more  par- 
ticularly for  you,  that  I  earnestly  recommend  it  to 
your  most  serious  care  and  attention.  Mind  your 
diction  in  whatever  language  you  either  write  or 
speak ;  contract  a  habit  of  correctness  and  elegance  ; 
consider  your  style  even  in  the  freest  conversation 
and  most  familiar  letters.  After  at  least,  if  not  be- 
fore, you  have  said  a  thing,  reflect  if  you  could  not 
have  said  it  better.  Where  you  doubt  of  the  pro- 
priety or  elegance  of  a  word  or  a  phrase,  consult 
some  good  dead  or  living  authority  in  that  lan- 
guage. Use  yourself  to  translate  from  various  lan- 
guages into  English ;  correct  those  translations  till 
they  satisfy  your  ear  as  well  as  your  understanding. 
And  be  convinced  of  this  truth,  that  the  best  sense 
and  reason  in  the  world  will  be  as  unwelcome  in  a 
public  assembly  without  these  ornaments  as  they 
will  in  public  companies  without  the  assistance  of 
manners  and  politeness.  If  you  will  please  people 
you  must  please  them  in  their  own  way ;  and  as 
you  cannot  make  them  what  they  should  be,  you 
must  take  them  as  they  are.     I  repeat  it  again,  they 


1 66    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

are  only  to  be  taken  by  agre'mens  and  by  what  flat- 
ters their  senses  and  their  hearts.  Rabelais  first 
wrote  a  most  excellent  book  which  nobody  liked ; 
then,  determined  to  conform  to  the  public  taste,  he 
wrote  "  Gargantua  and  Pantagruel,"  which  everybod\ 
liked,  extravagant  as  it  was.     Adieu. 


XLIII. 

"THE  TONGUE  TO  PERSUADE." 

London,  Dec.  12,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  Lord  Clarendon  in  his  history  says 
of  Mr.  John  Hampden  that  "  he  had  a  head  to  con- 
trive, a  tongue  to  persuade,  and  a  hand  to  execute 
any  mischief."  I  shall  not  now  enter  into  the  just- 
ness of  this  character  of  Mr.  Hampden,  to  whose 
brave  stand  against  the  illegal  demand  of  ship-money 
we  owe  our  present  liberties  ;  but  I  mention  it  to  you 
as  the  character,  which,  with  the  alteration  of  one  sin- 
gle word,  Good,  instead  of  Mischief,  I  would  have 
you  aspire  to,  and  use  your  utmost  endeavors  to  de- 
serve. The  head  to  contrive  God  must  to  a  certain 
degree  have  given  you ;  but  it  is  in  your  own  power 
greatly  to  improve  it  by  study,  observation,  and  re- 
flection. As  for  the  "  tongue  to  persuade,"  it  wholly 
depends  upon  yourself ;  and  without  it  the  best  head 
will  contrive  to  very  little  purpose.  The  hand  to  ex- 
ecute depends  likewise,  in  my  opinion,  in  a  great 
measure  upon  yourself.  Serious  reflection  will  al- 
ways give  courage  in  a  good  cause  ;  and  the  courage 
arising  from  reflection  is  of  a  much  superior  nature 


TO  HIS  SON.  167 

to  the  animal  and  constitutional  courage  of  a  foot  sol- 
dier. The  former  is  steady  and  unshaken,  where  the 
nodus  is  dignus  vindice ;  the  latter  is  oftener  im- 
properly than  properly  exerted,  but  always  brutally. 

The  second  member  of  my  text  (to  speak  eccle- 
siastically) shall  be  the  subject  of  my  following 
discourse,  —  the  tongue  to  persuade,  —  as  judicious 
preachers  recommend  those  virtues  which  they  think 
their  several  audiences  want  the  most,  such  as  truth 
and  continence  at  Court,  disinterestedness  in  the 
city,  and  sobriety  in  the  country. 

You  must  certainly  in  the  course  of  your  little 
experience  have  felt  the  different  effects  of  elegant 
and  inelegant  speaking.  Do  you  not  suffer  when 
people  accost  you  in  a  stammering  or  hesitating 
manner,  in  an  untuneful  voice  with  false  accents  and 
cadences,  puzzling  and  blundering  through  sole- 
cisms, barbarisms,  and  vulgarisms,  misplacing  even 
their  bad  words,  and  inverting  all  method?  Does 
not  this  prejudice  you  against  their  matter,  be  it 
what  it  will ;  nay,  even  against  their  persons  ?  I  am 
sure  it  does  me.  On  the  other  hand,  do  you  not 
feel  yourself  inclined,  prepossessed,  nay,  even  en- 
gaged in  favor  of  those  who  address  you  in  the  direct 
contrary  manner?  The  effects  of  a  correct  and 
adorned  style,  of  method  and  perspicuity,  are  in- 
credible towards  persuasion;  they  often  supply  the 
want  of  reason  and  argument,  but  when  used  in  the 
support  of  reason  and  argument,  they  are  irresistible. 
The  French  attend  very  much  to  the  purity  and  ele- 
gance of  their  style,  even  in  common  conversation ; 
insomuch  that  it  is  a  character  to  say  of  a  man,  "  qu'il 


1 68    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

narre  bien."  Their  conversations  frequently  turn 
upon  the  delicacies  of  their  language,  and  an  academy 
is  employed  in  fixing  it.  The  Crusca  in  Italy  has  the 
same  object ;  and  I  have  met  with  very  few  Italians 
who  did  not  speak  their  own  language  correctly  and 
elegantly.  How  much  more  necessary  is  it  for  an 
Englishman  to  do  so,  who  is  to  speak  it  in  a  public 
assembly  where  the  laws  and  liberties  of  his  country 
are  the  subjects  of  his  deliberation?  The  tongue  that 
would  persuade  there  must  not  content  itself  with 
mere  articulation.  ...  If  you  have  the  least  defect 
in  your  elocution,  take  the  utmost  care  and  pains  to 
correct  it.  Do  not  neglect  your  style,  whatever  lan- 
guage you  speak  in,  or  whomever  you  speak  to,  were 
it  your  footman.  Seek  always  for  the  best  words  and 
the  happiest  expressions  you  can  find.  Do  not  con- 
tent yourself  with  being  barely  understood,  but  adorn 
your  thoughts,  and  dress  them  as  you  would  your 
person ;  which,  however  well  proportioned  it  might 
be,  it  would  be  very  improper  and  indecent  to  ex- 
hibit naked,  or  even  worse  dressed  than  people  of 
your  sort  are. 


XLIV. 

MAN'S  INCONSISTENCY. —RICHELIEU  AND  MAZARIN. 
—  WOMEN  MORE  ALIKE  THAN  MEN.  —  ON  RASH 
CONFIDENCES. 

London,  Dec.  19,  o.  s.  1749. 
Dear  Boy,  —  The  knowledge  of  mankind  is  a  very 
usefiil  knowledge  for  everybody,  —  a  most  necessary 


TO  HIS  SON.  169 

one  for  you,  who  are  destined  tb  an  active  public 
life.  You  will  have  to  do  with  all  sorts  of  characters  ; 
you  should  therefore  know  them  thoroughly  in  order 
to  manage  them  ably.  This  knowledge  is  not  to  be 
gotten  systematically;  you  must  acquire  it  yourself 
by  your  own  observation  and  sagacity.  I  will  give 
you  such  hints  as  I  think  may  be  useful  land-marks 
in  your  intended  progress. 

I  have  often  told  you  (and  it  is  most  true)  that 
with  regard  to  mankind  we  must  not  draw  genej^l 
conclusions  from  certain  particular  principles,  though 
in  the  main  true  ones.  We  must  not  suppose  that 
because  a  man  is  a  rational  animal,  he  will  therefore 
always  act  rationally ;  or  because  he  has  such  or  such 
a  predominate  passion,  that  he  will  act  invariably  and 
consequentially  in  the  pursuit  of  it.  No,  we  are 
complicated  machines ;  and  though  we  have  one 
main  spring  that  gives  motion  to  the  whole,  we  have 
an  infinity  of  little  wheels,  which  in  their  turns  re- 
tard, precipitate,  and  sometimes  stop  that  motion. 

There  are  two  inconsistent  passions,  which  however 
frequently  accompany  each  other,  like  man  and  wife  ; 
and  which,  like  man  and  wife  too,  are  commonly 
clogs  upon  each  other.  I  mean  ambition  and  ava- 
rice. The  latter  is  often  the  true  cause  of  the  former, 
and  then  is  the  predominant  passion.  It  seems  to 
have  been  so  in  Cardinal  Mazarin,  who  did  anything, 
submitted  to  anything,  and  forgave  anything  for  the 
sake  of  plunder.  He  loved  and  courted  power  like 
an  usurer,  because  it  carried  profit  along  with  it. 
Whoever  should  have  formed  his  opinion  or  taken 


I/O     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

his  measures  singly,  from  the  ambitious  part  of  Car- 
dinal Mazarin's  character,  would  have  found  himself 
often  mistaken.  Some  who  had  found  this  out  made 
their  fortunes  by  letting  him  cheat  them  at  play.  On 
the  contrary,  Cardinal  Richelieu's  prevailing  passion 
seems  to  have  been  ambition,  and  his  immense  riches 
only  the  natural  consequences  of  that  ambition  grati- 
fied ;  and  yet  I  make  no  doubt  but  that  ambition 
had  now  and  then  its  turn  with  the  former,  and  ava- 
rice with  the  latter.  Richelieu  (by  the  way)  is  so 
strong  a  proof  of  the  inconsistency  of  human  nature 
that  I  cannot  help  observing  to  you  that  while  he 
absolutely  governed  both  his  king  and  his  country, 
and  was  in  a  great  degree  the  arbiter  of  the  fate  of  all 
Europe,  he  was  more  jealous  of  the  great  reputation 
of  Corneille  than  of  the  power  of  Spain  ;  and  more 
flattered  with  being  thought  (what  he  was  not)  the 
best  poet  than  with  being  thought  (what  he  certainly 
was)  the  greatest  statesman  in  Europe ;  and  affairs 
stood  still  while  he  was  concerting  the  criticism  upon 
the  "Cid."  Could  one  think  this  possible  if  one  did 
not  know  it  to  be  true  ?  Though  men  are  all  of  one 
composition,  the  several  ingredients  are  so  differently 
proportioned  in  each  individual,  that  no  two  are  ex- 
actly alike,  and  no  one  at  all  times  like  himself. 
The  ablest  man  will  sometimes  do  weak  things ;  the 
proudest  man,  mean  things ;  the  honestest  man,  ill 
things ;  and  the  wickedest  man,  good  ones.  Study 
individuals  then,  and  if  you  take  (as  you  ought  to 
do)  their  outlines  from  their  prevailing  passion,  sus- 
pend your  last  finishing  strokes  till  you  have  attended 
to  and  discovered  the  operations  of  their  inferior  pas- 


TO  HIS  SON.  171 

sions,  appetites,  and  humors.  A  man's  general 
character  may  be  that  of  the  honestest  man  of  the 
world.  Do  not  dispute  it,  —  you  might  be  thought 
envious  or  ill-natured ;  but  at  the  same  time  do 
not  take  this  probity  upon  trust  to  such  a  degree 
as  to  put  your  life,  fortune,  or  reputation  in  his 
power.  This  honest  man  may  happen  to  be  your 
rival  in  power,  in  interest,  or  in  love,  —  three  pas- 
sions that  often  put  honesty  to  most  severe  trials 
in  which  it  is  too  often  cast ;  but  first  analyze  this 
honest  man  yourself,  and  then  only  you  will  be 
able  to  judge  how  far  you  may,  or  may  not,  with 
safety  trust  him. 

Women  are  much  more  like  each  other  than  men  : 
they  have  in  truth  but  two  passions,  vanity  and  love  ; 
these  are  their  universal  characteristics.  An  Agrip- 
pina  may  sacrifice  them  to  ambition,  or  a  Messalina 
to  lust,  but  those  instances  are  rare ;  and  in  general 
all  they  say  and  all  they  do,  tends  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  their  vanity  or  their  love.  He  who  flatters 
them  most  pleases  them  best,  and  they  are  the 
most  in  love  with  him  who  they  think  is  the  most  in 
love  with  them.  No  adulation  is  too  strong  for 
them ;  no  assiduity  too  great ;  as,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  least  word  or  action  that  can  possibly 
be  construed  into  a  slight  or  contempt  is  unpar- 
donable, and  never  forgotton.  Men  are  in  this 
respect  tender  too,  and  will  sooner  forgive  an  injury 
than  an  insult.  Some  men  are  more  captious  than 
others ;  some  are  always  wrong-headed ;  but  every 
man  living  has  such  a  share  of  vanity  as  to  be  hurt  by 
marks  of  slight  and  contempt.     Every  man  does  not 


172    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

pretend  to  be  a  poet,  a  mathematician,  or  a  states- 
man, and  considered  as  such ;  but  every  man  pre- 
tends to  common- sense  and  to  fill  his  place  in  the 
world  with  common  decency,  and  consequently 
does  not  easily  forgive  those  negligences,  inatten- 
tions, and  slights  which  seem  to  call  in  question 
or  utterly  deny  him  both  these  pretensions. 

Suspect,  in  general,  those  who  remarkably  affect 
any  one  virtue ;  who  raise  it  above  all  others,  and 
who  in  a  manner  intimate  that  they  possess  it 
exclusively.  I  say  suspect  them,  for  they  are  com- 
monly impostors ;  but  do  not  be  sure  that  they  are 
always  so,  for  I  have  sometimes  known  saints  really 
religious,  blusterers  really  brave,  reformers  of  man- 
ners really  honest,  and  prudes  really  chaste.  Pry 
into  the  recesses  of  their  hearts  yourself,  as  far  as 
you  are  able,  and  never  implicitly  adopt  a  character 
upon  common  fame,  —  which  though  generally  right 
as  to  the  great  outlines  of  characters  is  always  wrong 
in  some  particulars. 

Be  upon  your  guard  against  those  who  upon  very 
slight  acquaintance  obtrude  their  unasked  and  un- 
merited friendship  and  confidence  upon  you,  for 
they  probably  cram  you  with  them  only  for  their 
own  eating ;  but  at  the  same  time,  do  not  roughly 
reject  them  upon  that  general  supposition.  Exam- 
ine further  and  see  whether  those  unexpected  offers 
flow  from  a  warm  heart  and  a  silly  head,  or  from 
a  designing  head  and  a  cold  heart ;  for  knavery  and 
folly  have  often  the  same  symptoms.  In  the  first 
case  there  is  no  danger  in  accepting  them,  Valeant 
quantum  valere  possunt.     In  the  latter  case  it  may 


TO  HIS  SON.  173 

be  useful  to  seem  to  accept  them,  and  artfully  to 
turn  the  battery  upon  him  who  raised  it. 

There  is  an  incontinency  of  friendship  among 
young  fellows  who  are  associated  by  their  mutual 
pleasures  only,  which  has  very  frequently  bad  con- 
sequences. A  parcel  of  warm  hearts  and  inexperi- 
enced heads,  heated  by  convivial  mirth  and  possibly 
a  little  too  much  wine,  vow,  and  really  mean  at  the 
time,  eternal  friendships  to  each  other,  and  indis- 
creetly pour  out  their  whole  souls  in  common,  and 
without  the  least  reserve.  These  confidences  are  as 
indiscreetly  repealed  as  they  were  made ;  for  new 
pleasures  and  new  places  soon  dissolve  this  ill- 
cemented  connection;  and  then  very  ill  uses  are 
made  of  these  rash  confidences.  Bear  your  part, 
however,  in  young  companies ;  nay,  excel  if  you  can 
in  all  the  social  and  convivial  joy  and  festivity  that 
become  youth,  —  but  keep  your  serious  views  secret. 
Trust  those  only  to  some  tried  friend,  more  experi- 
enced than  yourself,  and  who  being  in  a  different 
walk  of  life  from  you,  is  not  likely  to  become  your 
rival ;  for  I  would  not  advise  you  to  depend  so 
much  upon  the  heroic  virtue  of  mankind  as  to 
hope  or  believe  that  your  competitor  will  ever  be 
your  friend  as  to  the  object  of  that  competition. 

These  are  reserves  and  cautions  very  necessary  to 
have,  but  very  imprudent  to  show ;  the  volto  sciolto 
should  accompany  them.     Adieu. 


174    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

XLV. 

ON  THE  LENIORES  VIRTUTES. 

[JVo  Daie.] 
Dear  Boy,  — Great  talents  and  great  virtues  (if 
you  should  have  them)  will  procure  you  the  respect 
and  the  admiration  of  mankind ;  but  it  is  the  lesser 
talents,  the  leniores  virtutes,  which  must  procure  you 
their  love  and  affection.  The  former,  unassisted 
and  unadorned  by  the  latter,  will  extort  praise,  but 
will  at  the  same  time  excite  both  fear  and  envy,  — 
two  sentiments  absolutely  incompatible  with  love 
and  affection. 

Caesar  had  all  the  great  vices  and  Cato  all  the 
great  virtues  that  men  could  have.  But  Caesar  had 
the  leniores  virtutes,  which  Cato  wanted,  and  which 
made  him  beloved  even  by  his  enemies  and  gained 
him  the  hearts  of  mankind  in  spite  of  their  reason ; 
while  Cato  was  not  even  beloved  by  his  friends,  not- 
withstanding the  esteem  and  respect  which  they 
could  not  refuse  to  his  virtues ;  and  I  am  apt  to 
think  that  if  Caesar  had  wanted  and  Cato  possessed 
those  leniores  virtutes,  the  former  would  not  have 
attempted  (at  least  with  success)  and  the  latter 
could  have  protected  the  liberties  of  Rome.  Mr. 
Addison,  in  his  Cato,  says  of  Caesar,  —  and  I  believe 
with  truth,  — 

"  Curse  on  his  virtues,  they  've  undone  his  country !  " 
By  which  he  means  those  lesser  but  engaging  virtues 
of  gentleness,  affability,  complaisance,  and  good  hu- 
mor.    The  knowledge  of  a  scholar,  the  courage  of 


TO  HIS  SON.  175 

a  hero,  and  the  virtue  of  a  Stoic,  will  be  admired ; 
but  if  the  knowledge  be  accompanied  with  arro- 
gance, the  courage  with  ferocity,  and  the  virtue 
with  inflexible  severity,  the  man  will  never  be  loved. 
The  heroism  of  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  (if  his  bru- 
tal courage  deserves  that  name)  was  universally  ad- 
mired, but  the  man  nowhere  beloved;  whereas 
Henry  IV.  of  France,  who  had  full  as  much  courage 
and  was  much  longer  engaged  in  wars,  was  generally 
beloved  upon  account  of  his  lesser  and  social  vir- 
tues. We  are  all  so  formed  that  our  understandings 
are  generally  the  dupes  of  our  hearts,  that  is,  of 
our  passions ;  and  the  surest  way  to  the  former  is 
through  the  latter,  which  must  be  engaged  by  the 
leniores  virtutes  alone  and  the  manner  of  exerting 
them.  The  insolent  civility  of  a  proud  man  is,  for 
example,  if  possible  more  shocking  than  his  rude- 
ness could  be,  because  he  shows  you  by  his  man- 
ner that  he  thinks  it  mere  condescension  in  him ; 
and  that  his  goodness  alone  bestows  upon  you  what 
you  have  no  pretence  to  claim.  He  intimates  his 
protection  instead  of  his  friendship  by  a  gracious 
nod  instead  of  an  usual  bow ;  and  rather  signifies 
his  consent  that  you  may,  than  his  invitation  that 
you  should,  sit,  walk,  eat,  or  drink  with  him. 

The  costive  liberality  of  a  purse-proud  man  insults 
the  distresses  it  sometimes  relieves ;  he  takes  care 
to  make  you  feel  your  own  misfortunes  and  the 
difference  between  your  situation  and  his,  —  both 
which  he  insinuates  to  be  justly  merited,  yours  by 
your  folly,  his  by  his  wisdom.  The  arrogant  pedant 
does  not  communicate   but  promulgates  his  know- 


176    LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

ledge.  He  does  not  give  it  you  but  he  inflicts  it 
upon  you ;  and  is  (if  possible)  more  desirous  to 
show  you  your  own  ignorance  than  his  own  learning. 
Such  manners  as  these  not  only  in  the  particular 
instances  which  I  have  mentioned,  but  likewise  in 
all  others,  shock  and  revolt  that  little  pride  and 
vanity  which  every  man  has  in  his  heart,  and  obli- 
terate in  us  the  obligation  for  the  favor  conferred 
by  reminding  us  of  the  motive  which  produced 
and  the  manner  which  accompanied  it. 

These  faults  point  out  their  opposite  perfections, 
and  your  own  good  sense  will  naturally  suggest 
them  to  you. 

But  besides  these  lesser  virtues,  there  are  what 
may  be  called  the  lesser  talents,  or  accomplishments, 
which  are  of  great  use  to  adorn  and  recommend  all 
the  greater;  and  the  more  so  as  all  people  are 
judges  of  the  one  and  but  few  are  of  the  other. 
Everybody  feels  the  impression  which  an  engaging 
address,  an  agreeable  manner  of  speaking,  and  an 
easy  politeness  makes  upon  them ;  and  they  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  favorable  reception  of  their 
betters.     Adieu. 

XLVI.  ^ 

THE   WRITER'S  NOVITIATE. 

LONDON,yjz«.  II,  O.  S.  1750. 

My  dear  Friend,*  — ^Yesterday  I  received  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Harte  of  the  31st  December,  n.  s.,  which 

1  Lord  Chesterfield  uses  this  form  of  address  in  all  the 
subsequent  letters  to  his  son. 


TO  HIS  SON.  \yy 

I  will  answer  soon,  and  for  which  I  desire  you  to 
return  him  my  thanks  now.  He  tells  me  two  things 
that  give  me  great  satisfaction  :  one  is,  that  there 
are  very  few  English  at  Rome ;  the  other  is,  that 
you  frequent  the  best  foreign  companies.  This  last 
is  a  very  good  symptom ;  for  a  man  of  sense  is 
never  desirous  to  frequent  those  companies  where 
he  is  not  desirous  to  please  or  where  he  finds  that 
he  displeases.  It  will  not  be  expected  in  those  com- 
panies that  at  your  age  you  should  have  the  garbo, 
the  disinvoltura,  and  the  leggiadria  of  a  man  of  five 
and  twenty  who  has  been  long  used  to  keep  the 
best  companies ;  and  therefore  do  not  be  discour- 
aged and  think  yourself  either  slighted  or  laughed 
at,  because  you  see  others  older  and  more  used  to 
the  world  easier,  more  familiar,  and  consequently 
rather  better  received  in  those  companies  than 
yourself.  In  time  your  turn  will  come ;  and  if  you 
do  but  show  an  inclination,  a  desire  to  please, 
though  you  should  be  embarrassed  or  even  err  in 
the  means  which  must  necessarily  happen  to  you  at 
first,  yet  the  will  —  to  use  a  vulgar  expression — will 
be  taken  for  the  deed  ;  and  people  instead  of  laugh- 
ing at  you  will  be  glad  to  instruct  you.  Good  sense 
can  only  give  you  the  great  outlines  of  good  breed- 
ing, but  observation  and  usage  can  alone  give  you 
the  delicate  touches  and  the  fine  coloring.  You 
will  naturally  endeavor  to  show  the  utmost  respect 
to  people  of  certain  ranks  and  characters,  and  con- 
sequently you  will  show  it;  but  the  proper,  the 
delicate  manner  of  showing  that  respect  nothing 
but  observation  and  time  can  give. 


178     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

I  remember  that  when  with  all  the  awkwardness 
and  rust  of  Cambridge  about  me,  I  was  first  intro- 
duced into  good  company,  I  was  frightened  out  of 
my  wits,  I  was  determined  to  be  what  I  thought 
civil ;  I  made  fine  low  bows  and  placed  myself  below 
everybody ;  but  when  I  was  spoken  to  or  attempted 
to  speak  myself,  Obstupui,  steteruntque  comae  ei  vox 
faucibus  haesit.  If  I  saw  people  whisper,  I  was  sure 
it  was  at  me  ;  and  I  thought  myself  the  sole  object 
of  either  the  ridicule  or  the  censure  of  the  whole 
company,  who  God  knows  did  not  trouble  their 
heads  about  me.  In  this  way  I  suffered  for  some 
time  like  a  criminal  at  the  bar,  and  should  cer- 
tainly have  renounced  all  polite  company  forever 
if  I  had  not  been  so  convinced  of  the  absolute 
necessity  of  forming  my  manners  upon  those  of  the 
best  companies  that  I  determined  to  persevere,  and 
suffer  anything  or  everything  rather  than  not  compass 
that  point.  Insensibly  it  grew  easier  to  me,  and  I 
began  not  to  bow  so  ridiculously  low  and  to  answer 
questions  without  great  hesitation  or  stammering ;  if 
now  and  then  some  charitable  people  seeing  my  em- 
barrassment and  being  desceuvr^  themselves  came 
and  spoke  to  me,  I  considered  them  as  angels  sent 
to  comfort  me,  and  that  gave  me  a  little  courage.  I 
got  more  soon  afterwards  and  was  intrepid  enough 
to  go  up  to  a  fine  woman  and  tell  her  that  I 
thought  it  a  warm  day.  She  answered  me  very 
civilly  that  she  thought  so  too ;  upon  which  the 
conversation  ceased  on  my  part  for  some  time,  till 
she  good-naturedly  resuming  it  spoke  to  me  thus : 
"  I  see  your  embarrassment,  and  I  am  sure  that  the 


TO  HIS  SON.  179 

few  words  you  said  to  me  cost  you  a  great  deal ;  but 
do  not  be  discouraged  for  that  reason  and  avoid  good 
company.  We  see  that  you  desire  to  please,  and 
that  is  the  main  point ;  you  want  only  the  manner, 
and  you  think  that  you  want  it  still  more  than  you 
do.  You  must  go  through  your  novitiate  before 
you  can  profess  good  breeding ;  and  if  you  will  be 
my  novice  I  will  present  you  to  my  acquaintance 
as  such." 

You  will  easily  imagine  how  much  this  speech 
pleased  me  and  how  awkwardly  I  answered  it.  I 
hemmed  once  or  twice  (for  it  gave  me  a  burr  in  my 
throat)  before  I  could  tell  her  that  I  was  very  much 
obliged  to  her ;  that  it  was  true  that  I  had  a  great 
deal  of  reason  to  distrust  my  own  behavior,  not 
being  used  to  fine  company ;  and  that  I  should 
be  proud  of  being  her  novice  and  receiving  her 
instructions. 

As  soon  as  I  had  fumbled  out  this  answer,  she 
called  up  three  or  four  people  to  her  and  said, 
"  Do  you  know  that  I  have  undertaken  this  young 
man  and  that  he  must  be  encouraged?  As  for  me 
I  think  I  have  made  a  conquest  of  him,  for  he 
just  now  ventured  to  tell  me,  although  tremblingly, 
that  it  is  warm.  You  will  assist  me  in  polishing 
him.".  .  . 

The  company  laughed  at  this  lecture,  and  I  was 
stunned  with  it.  I  did  not  know  whether  she  was 
serious  or  in  jest.  By  turns  I  was  pleased,  ashamed, 
encouraged,  and  dejected.  But  when  I  found  after- 
wards that  both  she  and  those  to  whom  she  had 
presented  me  countenanced  and  protected  me  in 


l8o    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

company,  I  gradually  got  more  assurance,  and  be- 
gan not  to  be  ashamed  of  endeavoring  to  be  civil. 
I  copied  the  best  masters,  at  first  servilely,  after- 
wards more  freely,  and  at  last  I  joined  habit  and 
invention. 


XLVII. 

TO  ACQUIRE  THE  GRACES  AND  ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 
STUDY  THE  BEST  MODELS.  —  A  LIST  OF  THE 
GRACES. 

London, yim.  i8,  o.  s.  1750. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  I  consider  the  solid  part  of 
your  little  edifice  as  so  near  being  finished  and  com- 
pleted that  my  only  remaining  care  is  about  the 
embellishments ;  and  that  must  now  be  your  princi- 
pal care  too.  Adorn  yourself  with  all  those  graces 
and  accomplishments  which  without  solidity  are 
frivolous,  but  without  which  solidity  is  to  a  great 
degree  useless.  Take  one  man  with  a  very  moder- 
ate degree  of  knowledge,  but  with  a  pleasing  figure, 
a  prepossessing  address,  graceful  in  all  that  he  says 
and  does,  polite,  liant,  and  in  short,  adorned  with 
all  the  lesser  talents ;  and  take  another  man,  with 
sound  sense  and  profound  knowledge,  but  without 
the  above-mentioned  advantages  :  the  former  will 
not  only  get  the  better  of  the  latter  in  every  pursuit 
of  every  kind,  but  in  truth  there  will  be  no  sort  of 
competition  between  them.  But  can  every  man  ac- 
quire these  advantages  ?  I  say,  Yes,  if  he  please ; 
suppose  he  is  in  a  situation  and  in  circumstances  to 


TO   HIS  SON.  l8l 

frequent  good  company.  Attention,  observation, 
and  imitation  will  most  infallibly  do  it.  When  you 
see  a  man  whose  first  abord  strikes  you,  prepossesses 
you  in  his  favor,  and  makes  you  entertain  a  good 
opinion  of  him,  you  do  not  know  why,  analyze  that 
abord  and  examine  within  yourself  the  several  parts 
that  compose  it,  and  you  will  generally  find  it  to  be 
the  result,  the  happy  assemblage,  of  modesty  unem- 
barrassed, respect  without  timidity,  a  genteel  but 
unaffected  attitude  of  body  and  limbs,  an  open, 
cheerful,  but  unsmirking  countenance,  and  a  dress 
by  no  means  negligent,  and  yet  not  foppish.  Copy 
him  then  not  servilely,  but  as  some  of  the  greatest 
masters  of  painting  have  copied  others,  —  insomuch 
that  their  copies  have  been  equal  to  the  originals 
both  as  to  beauty  and  freedom.  When  you  see  a 
man  who  is  universally  allowed  to  shine  as  an  agree- 
able well-bred  man,  and  a  fine  gentleman  (as  for 
example,  the  Duke  de  Nivemois),  attend  to  him, 
watch  him  carefully ;  observe  in  what  manner  he 
addresses  himself  to  his  superiors,  how  he  lives  with 
his  equals,  and  how  he  treats  his  inferiors.  Mind 
his  turn  of  conversation  in  the  several  situations  of 
morning  visits,  the  table,  and  the  evening  amuse- 
ments. Imitate  without  mimicking  him  ;  and  be  his 
duplicate,  but  not  his  ape.  You  will  find  that  he 
takes  care  never  to  say  or  do  anything  that  can  be 
construed  into  a  slight  or  a  negligence,  or  that  can 
in  any  degree  mortify  people's  vanity  and  self-love  ; 
on  the  contrary  you  will  perceive  that  he  makes  peo- 
ple pleased  with  him  by  making  them  first  pleased 
with  themselves ;  he  shows  respect,  regard,  esteem. 


1 82     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  attention,  where  they  are  severally  proper ;  he 
sows  them  with  care,  and  he  reaps  them  in  plenty. 

These  amiable  accomplishments  are  all  to  be  ac- 
quired by  use  and  imitation ;  for  we  are  in  truth 
more  than  half  what  we  are  by  imitation.  The 
great  point  is  to  choose  good  models,  and  to  study 
them  with  care.  People  insensibly  contract  not 
only  the  air,  the  manners,  and  the  vices,  of  those 
with  whom  they  commonly  converse,  but  their  vir- 
tues too,  and  even  their  way  of  thinking.  This  is 
so  true  that  I  have  known  very  plain  understandings 
catch  a  certain  degree  of  wit  by  constantly  convers- 
ing with  those  who  had  a  great  deal.  Persist  there- 
fore in  keeping  the  best  company,  and  you  will 
insensibly  become  like  them  ;  but  if  you  add  atten- 
tion and  observation,  you  will  very  soon  become 
one  of  them.  The  inevitable  contagion  of  company 
shows  you  the  necessity  of  keeping  the  best  and 
avoiding  all  other ;  for  in  every  one  something  will 
stick.  You  have  hitherto,  I  confess,  had  very  few 
opportunities  of  keeping  polite  company.  West- 
minster school  is  undoubtedly  the  seat  of  illiberal 
manners  and  brutal  behavior;  Leipsig,  I  suppose, 
is  not  the  seat  of  refined  and  elegant  manners ; 
Venice,  I  believe,  has  done  something ;  Rome,  I 
hope,  will  do  a  great  deal  more ;  and  Paris  will,  I 
dare  say,  do  all  that  you  want,  —  always  supposing 
that  you  frequent  the  best  companies  and  in  the 
intention  of  improving  and  forming  yourself,  for 
without  that  intention  nothing  will  do. 

I  here  subjoin  a  list  of  all  those  necessary  orna- 
mental  accomplishments   (without  which   no   man 


TO  HIS  son:  183 

living  can  either  please  or  rise  in  the  world)  which 
hitherto  I  fear  you  want,  and  which  only  require 
your  care  and  attention  to  possess,  — 

To  speak  elegantly  whatever  language  you  speak 
in,  without  which  nobody  will  hear  you  with  pleas- 
ure, and  consequently  you  will  speak  to  very  little 
purpose. 

An  agreeable  and  distinct  elocution,  without 
which  nobody  will  hear  you  with  patience.  This 
everybody  may  acquire,  who  is  not  bom  with  some 
imperfection  in  the  organs  of  speech.  You  are  not, 
and  therefore  it  is  wholly  in  your  power.  You  need 
take  much  less  pains  for  it  than  Demosthenes  did. 

A  distinguished  politeness  of  manners  and  ad- 
dress, which  common-sense,  observation,  good  com- 
pany, and  imitation  will  infallibly  give  you  if  you 
will  accept  it. 

A  genteel  carriage  and  graceful  motions,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  of  fashion.  A  good  dancing-master, 
with  some  care  on  your  part  and  some  imitation  of 
those  who  excel,  will  soon  bring  this  about. 

To  be  extremely  clean  in  your  person,  and  per- 
fectly well  dressed,  according  to  the  fashion,  be  that 
what  it  will.  Your  negligence  of  your  dress  while 
you  were  a  school-boy  was  pardonable,  but  would 
not  be  so  now. 

Upon  the  whole,  take  it  for  granted  that  without 
these  accomplishments  all  you  know  and  all  you 
can  do  will  avail  you  very  little.     Adieu. 


1 84    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


XLVIII. 

IMPORTANCE    OF    THE    MORAL    VIRTUES.  —  WARNING 
AGAINST  VANITY. 

London,  May  17,  o.  s.  1750. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  Your  apprenticeship  is  near 
out,  and  you  are  soon  to  set  up  for  yourself;  that 
approaching  moment  is  a  critical  one  for  you,  and 
an  anxious  one  for  me.  A  tradesman  who  would 
succeed  in  his  way  must  begin  by  establishing  a 
character  of  integrity  and  good  manners  :  without 
the  former,  nobody  will  go  to  his  shop  at  all ;  with- 
out the  latter,  nobody  will  go  there  twice.  This 
rule  does  not  exclude  the  fair  arts  of  trade.  He 
may  sell  his  goods  at  the  best  price  he  can,  within 
certain  bounds.  He  may  avail  himself  of  the  hu- 
mor, the  whims,  and  the  fantastical  tastes  of  his 
customers ;  but  what  he  warrants  to  be  good  must 
be  really  so,  what  he  seriously  asserts  must  be  true, 
or  his  first  fraudulent  profits  will  soon  end  in  a 
bankruptcy.  It  is  the  same  in  higher  life  and  in 
the  great  business  of  the  world.  A  man  who  does 
not  solidly  establish,  and  really  deserve,  a  character 
of  truth,  probity,  good  manners,  and  good  morals 
at  his  first  setting  out  in  the  world,  may  impose 
and  shine  like  a  meteor  for  a  very  short  time,  but 
will  very  soon  vanish,  and  be  extinguished  with 
contempt.  People  easily  pardon  in  young  men 
the  common  irregularities  of  the  senses ;  but  they 
do   not  forgive  the  least  vice  of  the  heart.     The 


TO  HIS  SON.  185 

heart  never  grows  better  by  age ;  I  fear  rather 
worse  ;  ahvays  harder.  A  young  Har  will  be  an  old 
one,  and  a  young  knave  will  only  be  a  greater 
knave  as  he  grows  older.  But  should  a  bad  young 
heart,  accompanied  with  a  good  head  (which  by 
the  way  very  seldom  is  the  case),  really  reform  in  a 
more  advanced  age,  from  a  consciousness  of  its 
folly,  as  well  as  of  its  guilt,  such  a  conversion 
would  only  be  thought  prudential  and  political,  but 
never  sincere.  I  hope  in  God,  and  I  verily  believe, 
that  you  want  no  moral  virtue.  But  the  possession 
of  all  the  moral  virtues  in  actu  prima,  as  the  logi- 
cians call  it,  is  not  sufficient ;  you  must  have  them 
in  actu  secundo  too  \  nay,  that  is  not  sufficient 
neither,  you  must  have  the  reputation  of  them  also. 
Your  character  in  the  world  must  be  built  upon  that 
solid  foundation,  or  it  will  soon  fall,  and  upon  your 
own  head.  You  cannot  therefore  be  too  careful, 
too  nice,  too  scrupulous,  in  establishing  this  charac- 
ter at  first,  upon  which  your  whole  career  depends. 
Let  no  conversation,  no  example,  no  fashion,  no  bon 
mot,  no  silly  desire  of  seeming  to  be  above  what 
most  knaves  and  many  fools  call  prejudices,  ever 
tempt  you  to  avow,  excuse,  extenuate,  or  laugh  at 
the  least  breach  of  morality;  but  show  upon  all 
occasions,  and  take  all  occasions  to  show,  a  detesta- 
tion and  abhorrence  of  it.  There,  though  young, 
you  ought  to  be  strict ;  and  there  only,  while  young, 
it  becomes  you  to  be  strict  and  severe.  But  there 
too,  spare  the  persons  while  you  lash  the  crimes. 
All  this  relates,  as  you  easily  judge,  to  the  vices  of 
the  heart,  such  as  lying,  fraud,  envy,  malice,  detrac- 


1 86    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

tion,  etc.,  and  I  do  not  extend  it  to  the  little  frail- 
ties of  youth  flowing  from  high  spirits  and  warm 
blood.  It  would  ill  become  you  at  your  age  to 
declaim  against  them,  and  sententiously  censure  an 
accidental  excess  of  the  table,  a  frolic,  an  inadver- 
tency ;  no,  keep  as  free  from  them  yourself  as  you 
can,  but  say  nothing  against  them  in  others.  They 
certainly  mend  by  time,  often  by  reason ;  and  a 
man's  worldly  character  is  not  affected  by  them, 
provided  it  be  pure  in  all  other  respects. 

To  come  now  to  a  point  of  much  less  but  yet  of 
very  great  consequence  at  your  first  setting  out. 
Be  extremely  upon  your  guard  against  vanity,  the 
common  failing  of  inexperienced  youth  ;  but  partic- 
ularly against  that  kind  of  vanity  that  dubs  a  man  a 
coxcomb,  —  a  character  which,  once  acquired,  is 
more  indelible  than  that  of  the  priesthood.  It  is  not 
to  be  imagined  by  how  many  different  ways  vanity 
defeats  its  own  purposes.  Some  men  decide  per- 
emptorily upon  every  subject,  betray  their  ignorance 
upon  many,  and  show  a  disgusting  presumption 
upon  the  rest.  .  .  .  Others  flatter  their  vanity  by  lit- 
tle extraneous  objects,  which  have  not  the  least  rela- 
tion to  themselves,  —  such  as  being  descended  from, 
related  to,  or  acquainted  with  people  of  distin- 
guished merit  and  eminent  characters.  They  talk 
perpetually  of  their  grandfather  such-a-one,  their 
uncle  such-a-one  and  their  intimate  friend  Mr. 
Such-a-one,  with  whom  possibly  they  are  hardly 
acquainted.  But  admitting  it  all  to  be  as  they 
would  have  it,  what  then?  Have  they  the  more 
merit  for  those  accidents  ?     Certainly  not.     On  the 


TO  HIS  SON.  187 

contrary,  their  taking  up  adventitious  proves  their 
want  of  intrinsic  merit ;  a  rich  man  never  borrows. 
Take  this  rule  for  granted,  as  a  never-faiUng  one,  — 
that  you  must  never  seem  to  affect  the  character 
in  which  you  have  a  mind  to  shine.  Modesty  is 
the  only  sure  bait  when  you  angle  for  praise.  The 
affectation  of  courage  will  make  even  a  brave  man 
pass  only  for  a  bully,  as  the  affectation  of  wit  will 
make  a  man  of  parts  pass  for  a  coxcomb.  By  this 
modesty  I  do  not  mean  timidity  and  awkward  bash- 
fulness.  On  the  contrary,  be  inwardly  firm  and 
steady,  know  your  own  value  whatever  it  may  be, 
and  act  upon  that  principle  ;  but  take  great  care  to 
let  nobody  discover  that  you  do  know  your  own 
value.  Whatever  real  merit  you  have,  other  people 
will  discover,  and  people  always  magnify  their  own 
discoveries,  as  they  lessen  those  of  others. 


XLIX. 

HOW    TO    READ    HISTORY,    AND    HOW    TO    CONVERSE 
WITH  ADVANTAGE. -A  MODEST  ASSURANCE. 

London,  Nov.  i,  o.  s.  1750. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  ...  While  you  are  in 
France,  I  could  wish  that  the  hours  you  allot  for 
historical  amusement  should  be  entirely  devoted  to 
the  history  of  France.  One  always  reads  history  to 
most  advantage  in  that  country  to  which  it  is  rela- 
tive,—  not  only  books  but  persons  being  ever  at 
hand  to  solve  doubts  and  clear  up  difficulties.  I  do 
by  no  means  advise  you  to  throw  away  your  time  in 


1 88    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

ransacking,  like  a  dull  antiquarian,  the  minute  and 
unimportant  parts  of  remote  and  fabulous  times. 
Let  blockheads  read  what  blockheads  wrote. 

Conversation  in  France,  if  you  have  the  address 
and  dexterity  to  turn  it  upon  useful  subjects,  will 
exceedingly  improve  your  historical  knowledge,  for 
people  there,  however  classically  ignorant  they  may 
be,  think  it  a  shame  to  be  ignorant  of  the  history  of 
their  own  country;  they  read  that,  if  they  read 
nothing  else,  and  having  often  read  nothing  else 
are  proud  of  having  read  that,  and  talk  of  it  will- 
ingly ;  even  the  women  are  well  instructed  in  that 
sort  of  reading.  I  am  far  from  meaning  by  this 
that  you  should  always  be  talking  wisely  in  company 
of  books,  history,  and  matters  of  knowledge.  There 
are  many  companies  which  you  will  and  ought  to 
keep,  where  such  conversations  would  be  misplaced 
and  ill-timed.  Your  own  good  sense  must  distin- 
guish the  company  and  the  time.  You  must  trifle 
only  with  triflers  and  be  serious  only  with  the 
serious,  but  dance  to  those  who  pipe.  "  Cur  in 
theatrum  Cato  severe  venisti?  "  was  justly  said  to  an 
old  man ;  how  much  more  so  would  it  be  to  one  of 
your  age  !  From  the  moment  that  you  are  dressed 
and  go  out,  pocket  all  your  knowledge  with  your 
watch,  and  never  pull  it  out  in  company  unless  de- 
sired ;  the  producing  of  the  one  unasked  implies 
that  you  are  weary  of  the  company,  and  the  pro- 
ducing of  the  other  unrequired  will  make  the  com- 
pany weary  of  you.  Company  is  a  republic  too 
jealous  of  its  Uberties  to  suffer  a  dictator  even  for  a 


TO  HIS  SON.  189 

quarter  of  an  hour,  and  yet  in  that,  as  in  all  repub- 
lics, there  are  some  few  who  really  govern;  but 
then  it  is  by  seeming  to  disclaim,  instead  of  at- 
tempting to  usurp  the  power.  That  is  the  occasion 
in  which  manners,  dexterity,  address,  and  the  unde- 
finable  je  ne  sais  quoi  triumph  ;  if  properly  exerted 
their  conquest  is  sure,  and  the  more  lasting  for  not 
being  perceived.  Remember  that  this  is  not  only 
your  first  and  greatest,  but  ought  to  be  almost  your 
only  object,  while  you  are  in  France. 

I  know  that  many  of  your  countrymen  are  apt  to 
call  the  freedom  and  vivacity  of  the  French  petu- 
lancy  and  ill  breeding ;  but  should  you  think  so,  I 
desire  upon  many  accounts  that  you  will  not  say  so. 
I  admit  that  it  may  be  so  in  some  instances  of 
petits  mattres  ^tourdis,  and  in  some  young  people 
unbroken  to  the  world ;  but  I  can  assure  you  that 
you  will  find  it  much  otherwise  with  people  of  a 
certain  rank  and  age,  upon  whose  model  you  will  do 
very  well  to  form  yourself  We  call  their  steady 
assurance,  impudence.  Why?  Only  because  what 
we  call  modesty  is  awkward  bashfulness  and  mau- 
vaise  honte.  For  my  part  I  see  no  impudence,  but 
on  the  contrary  infinite  utility  and  advantage,  in 
presenting  one's  self  with  the  same  coolness  and 
unconcern  in  any  and  every  company ;  till  one  can 
do  that,  I  am  very  sure  that  one  can  never  present 
one's  self  well.  Whatever  is  done  under  concern 
and  embarrassment,  must  be  ill  done ;  and  till  a 
man  is  absolutely  easy  and  unconcerned  in  every 
company  he  will  never  be  thought  to  have  kept 
good,  nor  be  very  welcome  in  it.     A  steady  assur- 


I90    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

ance  with  seeming  modesty  is  possibly  the  most 
useful  quaUfication  that  a  man  can  have  in  every 
part  of  Ufe.  A  man  would  certainly  make  a  very 
considerable  fortune  and  figure  in  the  world,  whose 
modesty  and  timidity  should  often,  as  bashfulness 
always  does,  put  him  in  the  deplorable  and  lament- 
able situation  of  the  pious  ^neas,  when  obstupuit, 
steteruntque  comce,  et  vox  faucibus  hcesit.     Fortune, 

" born  to  be  controlled. 


Stoops  to  the  forward  and  the  bold." 

Assurance  and  intrepidity,  under  the  white  banner 
of  seeming  modesty,  clear  the  way  for  merit,  that 
would  otherwise  be  discouraged  by  difficulties  in  its 
journey  ;  whereas  barefaced  impudence  is  the  noisy 
and  blustering  harbinger  of  a  worthless  and  sense- 
less  usurper. 

You  will  think  that  I  shall  never  have  done 
recommending  to  you  these  exterior  worldly  ac- 
complishments, and  you  will  think  right,  for  I  never 
shall.  They  are  of  too  great  consequence  to  you  for 
me  to  be  indifferent  or  negligent  about  them ;  the 
shining  part  of  your  future  figure  and  fortune  de- 
pends now  wholly  upon  them.  These  are  the  ac- 
quisitions which  must  give  efficacy  and  success  to 
those  you  have  already  made.  To  have  it  said  and 
believed  that  you  are  the  most  learned  man  in  Eng- 
land would  be  no  more  than  was  said  and  believed 
of  Dr.  Bentley ;  but  to  have  it  said  at  the  same  time 
that  you  are  also  the  best  bred,  most  polite,  and 
agreeable  man  in  the  kingdom,  would  be  such  a 
happy  composition  of  a  character  as  I  never  yet 


TO  HIS  SON.  191 

knew  any  one  man  deserve,  and  which  I  will  en- 
deavor as  well  as  ardently  wish  that  you  may.  Ab- 
solute perfection  is  I  well  know  unattainable ;  but  I 
know  too  that  a  man  of  parts  may  be  unweariedly 
aiming  at  it,  and  arrive  pretty  near  it.  Try,  labor, 
persevere.     Adieu. 


L. 


GOOD  MANNERS  THE  SOURCE  OF  ESTEEM.-  SUPPOSED 
ALLUSION  TO  DR.  JOHNSON. 

London,  Feb.  28,  o.  s.  1751. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  This  epigram  in  Martial, 

Non  amo  te,  Sabidi,  nee  possum  dicere  quare, 
Hoc  tantutn  possum  dicere,  non  amo  te  ;  ^ 

has  puzzled  a  great  many  people  who  cannot  con- 
ceive how  it  is  possible  not  to  love  anybody  and 
yet  not  to  know  the  reason  why.  I  think  I  con- 
ceive Martial's  meaning  very  clearly,  though  the 
nature  of  epigram,  which  is  to  be  short,  would  not 
allow  him  to  explain  it  more  fully ;  and  I  take  it  to 
be  this  :  O  Sabidis,  you  are  a  very  worthy,  deserving 
man ;  you  have  a  thousand  good  qualities,  you  have 
a  great  deal  of  learning ;  I  esteem,  I  respect,  but 
for  the  soul  of  me  I  cannot  love  you,  though  I  can- 
not particularly  say  why.  You  are  not  aimable ; 
you  have  not  those  engaging  manners,  those  pleas- 
ing attentions,  those  graces,  and  that  address,  which 

*  Recalling,  — 

*'  I  do  not  love  thee,  Dr.  Fell,  the  reason  why  I  cannot  tell. 

But  this  I  know  and  know  full  well,  I  do  not  love  thee,  Dr.  Fell," 


192     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

are  absolutely  necessary  to  please  though  impossible 
to  define.  I  cannot  say  it  is  this  or  that  particular 
thing  that  hinders  me  from  loving  you,  —  it  is  the 
whole  together;  and  upon  the  whole  you  are  not 
agreeable. 

How  often  have  I  in  the  course  of  my  life  found 
myself  in  this  situation  with  regard  to  many  of  my 
acquaintance  whom  I  have  honored  and  respected 
without  being  able  to  love.  I  did  not  know  why, 
because  when  one  is  young  one  does  not  take  the 
trouble  nor  allow  one's  self  the  time  to  analyze  one's 
sentiments  and  to  trace  them  up  to  their  source. 
But  subsequent  observation  and  reflection  have 
taught  me  why.  There  is  a  man  whose  moral 
character,  deep  learning,  and  superior  parts,  I  ac- 
knowledge, admire,  and  respect ;  but  whom  it  is  so 
impossible  for  me  to  love,  that  I  am  almost  in  a 
fever  whenever  I  am  in  his  company.  His  figure 
(without  being  deformed)  seems  made  to  disgrace 
or  ridicule  the  common  structure  of  the  human 
body.  His  legs  and  arms  are  never  in  the  position 
which  according  to  the  situation  of  his  body  they 
ought  to  be  in,  but  constantly  employed  in  com- 
mitting acts  of  hostility  upon  the  Graces.  He 
throws  anywhere  but  down  his  throat  whatever  he 
means  to  drink,  and  only  mangles  what  he  means 
to  carve.  Inattentive  to  all  the  regards  of  social 
life,  he  mis-times  or  misplaces  everything.  He 
disputes  with  heat,  and  indiscriminately,  mindless  of 
the  rank,  character,  and  situation  of  those  with 
whom  he  disputes ;  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  sev- 
eral   gradations    of    familiarity   or   respect,    he    is 


TO  HIS  SON.  193 

exactly  the  same  to  his  superiors,  his  equals,  and 
his  inferiors,  and  therefore,  by  a  necessary  conse- 
quence absurd  to  two  of  the  three.  Is  it  possible  to 
love  such  a  man?  No.  The  utmost  I  can  do  for 
him  is  to  consider  him  as  a  respectable  Hottentot.  1 


LI. 

SUAi^ITER  IN  MODO,  FOR  TITER  IN  RE. 

[No  Date]. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  I  mentioned  to  you  some 
time  ago,  a  sentence,  which  I  would  most  earnestly 
wish  you  always  to  retain  in  your  thoughts  and 
observe  in  your  conduct.  It  is  Suaviter  in  modo, 
fortiter  in  re.  I  do  not  know  any  one  rule  so  un- 
exceptionably  useful  and  necessary  in  every  part  of 
life.  I  shall  therefore  take  it  for  my  text  to-day ; 
and  as  old  men  love  preaching,  and  I  have  some 
right  to  preach  to  you,  I  here  present  you  with  my 
sermon  upon  these  words.  To  proceed  then  regu- 
larly and  pulpitically,    I    will    first   show   you,    my 

^  Lord  Chesterfield  probably  alludes  to  Dr.  Johnson  in 
this  passage.  Boswell  had  no  doubt  of  it,  and  says :  —  "I 
have  heard  Johnson  himself  talk  of  the  character,  and  say 
that  it  was  meant  for  Lord  George  Lyttelton,  in  which  I 
could  by  no  means  agree ;  for  his  Lordship  had  nothing  of 
that  violence  which  is  a  conspicuous  feature  in  the  composi- 
tion. Finding  that  my  illustrious  friend  could  bear  to  have 
it  supposed  that  it  might  be  meant  for  him,  I  said  laughingly 
that  there  was  one  trait  which  did  not  belong  to  him,  —  he 
throws  meat  everywhere  but  down  his  own  throat.  '  Sir,'  said 
he,  •  Lord  Chesterfield  never  saw  me  eat  in  his  life  I  *  " 
13 


194    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

beloved,  the  necessary  connection  of  the  two  mem- 
bers of  my  text,  —  suaviter  in  modo  ;  fortiter  in  re. 
In  the  next  place,  I  shall  set  forth  the  advantages 
and  utility  resulting  from  a  strict  observance  of  the 
precept  contained  in  my  text ;  and  conclude  with 
an  application  of  the  whole.  The  suaviter  in  modo 
alone  would  degenerate  and  sink  into  a  mean, 
timid  complaisance  and  passiveness,  if  not  sup- 
ported and  dignified  by  the  fortiter  in  re,  which 
would  also  run  into  impetuosity  and  brutality,  if 
not  tempered  and  softened  by  the  suaviter  in  modo  ; 
however,  they  are  seldom  united.  The  warm,  chol- 
eric man  with  strong  animal  spirits  despises  the 
suaviter  in  modo,  and  thinks  to  carry  all  before 
him  by  the  fortiter  in  re.  He  may  possibly,  by 
great  accident,  now  and  then  succeed,  when  he 
has  only  weak  and  timid  people  to  deal  with ;  but 
his  general  fate  will  be  to  shock,  offend,  be  hated, 
and  fail.  On  the  other  hand,  the  cunning,  crafty 
man  thinks  to  gain  all  his  ends  by  the  suaviter  in 
modo  only ;  he  becomes  all  things  to  all  7nen  ;  he 
seems  to  have  no  opinion  of  his  own,  and  servilely 
adopts  the  present  opinion  of  the  present  person ; 
he  insinuates  himself  only  into  the  esteem  of  fools, 
but  is  soon  detected,  and  surely  despised  by  every- 
body else.  The  wise  man  (who  differs  as  much 
from  the  cunning  as  from  the  choleric  man)  alone 
joins  the  suaviter  in  modo  with  the  fortiter  in  re. 
Now  to  the  advantages  arising  from  the  strict  ob- 
servance of  this  precept.  If  you  are  in  authority 
and  have  a  right  to  command,  your  commands 
delivered  sudviter  in  modo  will  be  willingly,  cheer- 


TO  HIS  SON.  195 

fully,  and  consequently  well  obeyed;  whereas,  if 
given  o\Ay  for  titer,  that  is  brutally,  they  will  rather, 
as  Tacitus  says,  be  interrupted  than  executed.  For 
my  own  part,  if  I  bid  my  footman  bring  me  a  glass 
of  wine  in  a  rough  insulting  manner,  I  should  ex- 
pect that  in  obeying  me  he  would  contrive  to  spill 
some  of  it  upon  me,  and  I  am  sure  I  should  deserve 
it.  A  cool,  steady  resolution  should  show  that 
where  you  have  a  right  to  command  you  will  be 
obeyed,  but  at  the  same  time  a  gentleness  in  the 
manner  of  enforcing  that  obedience  should  make 
it  a  cheerful  one,  and  soften  as  much  as  possible 
the  mortifying  consciousness  of  inferiority.  If  you 
are  to  ask  a  favor  or  even  to  solicit  your  due  you 
must  do  it  suaviter  in  modo  or  you  will  give  those 
who  have  a  mind  to  refuse  you  either,  a  pretence  to 
do  it  by  resenting  the  manner;  but  on  the  other 
hand  you  must  by  a  steady  perseverance  and  decent 
tenaciousness  show  the  fortiter  in  re.  The  right 
motives  are  seldom  the  true  ones  of  men's  actions, 
—  especially  of  kings,  ministers,  and  people  in  high 
stations,  who  often  give  to  importunity  and  fear 
what  they  would  refuse  to  justice  or  to  merit.  By 
the  suaviter  in  modo  engage  their  hearts  if  you  can ; 
at  least  prevent  the  pretence  of  offence  :  but  take 
care  to  show  enough  of  the  fortiter  in  re  to  extort 
from  their  love  of  ease  or  their  fear  what  you  might 
in  vain  hope  for  from  their  justice  or  good  nature. 
People  in  high  life  are  hardened  to  the  wants  and 
distresses  of  mankind  as  surgeons  are  to  their  bod- 
ily pains ;  they  see  and  hear  of  them  all  day  long 
and  even  of  so  many  simulated  ones  that  they  do 


196    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

not  know  which  are  real  and  which  not.  Other  sen- 
timents are  therefore  to  be  appUed  to  than  those  of 
mere  justice  and  humanity.  Their  favor  must  be 
captivated  by  the  suaviter  in  modo ;  their  love  of 
ease  disturbed  by  unwearied  importunity ;  or  their 
fears  wrought  upon  by  a  decent  intimation  of  im- 
placable cool  resentment,  —  this  is  the  true  fortiter 
in  re.  This  precept  is  the  only  way  I  know  in  the 
world  of  being  loved  without  being  despised  and 
feared  without  being  hated.  It  constitutes  the  dig- 
nity of  character  which  every  wise  man  must  en- 
deavor to  establish. 

Now  to  apply  what  has  been  said  and  so 
conclude. 

If  you  find  that  you  have  a  hastiness  in  your 
temper  which  unguardedly  breaks  out  into  indis- 
creet sallies  or  rough  expressions  to  either  your 
superiors,  your  equals,  or  your  inferiors,  watch  it 
narrowly,  check  it  carefully,  and  call  the  suaviter  in 
modo  to  your  assistance ;  at  the  first  impulse  of  pas- 
sion, be  silent  till  you  can  be  soft.  Labor  even  to 
get  the  command  of  your  countenance  so  well 
that  those  emotions  may  not  be  read  in  it,  —  a  most 
unspeakable  advantage  in  business.  On  the  other 
hand,  let  no  complaisance,  no  gentleness  of  temper, 
no  weak  desire  of  pleasing  on  your  part,  no  whee- 
dling, coaxing,  nor  flattery  on  other  people's,  make 
you  recede  one  jot  from  any  point  that  reason  and 
prudence  have  bid  you  pursue ;  but  return  to  the 
charge,  persist,  persevere,  and  you  will  find  most 
things  attainable  that  are  possible.  A  yielding, 
timid   meekness  is  always   abused  and  insulted  by 


TO  HIS  SON.  197 

the  unjust  and  the  unfeeling,  but  when  sustained 
by  \hQ  fortiter  in  re  is  always  respected,  commonly 
successful.  In  your  friendships  and  connections, 
as  well  as  in  your  enmities,  this  rule  is  particularly 
useful :  let  your  firmness  and  vigor  preserve  and 
invite  attachments  to  you,  but  at  the  same  time 
let  your  manner  hinder  the  enemies  of  your  friends 
and  dependants  from  becoming  yours ;  let  your 
enemies  be  disarmed  by  the  gentleness  of  your 
manner,  but  let  them  feel  at  the  same  time  the 
steadiness  of  your  just  resentment,  —  for  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  bearing  malice,  which  is 
always  ungenerous,  and  a  resolute  self-defence,  which 
is  always  prudent  and  justifiable.  In  negotiations 
with  foreign  ministers  remember  the  fortiter  in  re  ; 
give  up  no  point,  accept  of  no  expedient,  till  the 
utmost  necessity  reduces  you  to  it,  and  even  then 
dispute  the  ground  inch  by  inch ;  but  then  while 
you  are  contending  with  the  minister  fortiter  in  re, 
remember  to  gain  the  man  by  the  suaviter  in  ?nodo. 
If  you  engage  his  heart,  you  have  a  fair  chance  for 
imposing  upon  his  understanding  and  determining 
his  will.  Tell  him  in  a  frank  gallant  manner  that 
your  ministerial  wrangles  do  not  lessen  your  per- 
sonal regard  for  his  merit,  but  that  on  the  contrary 
his  zeal  and  ability  in  the  service  of  his  master 
increase  it,  and  that  of  all  things  you  desire  to  make 
a  good  friend  of  so  good  a  servant.  By  these  means 
you  may  and  will  very  often  be  a  gainer ;  you  never 
can  be  a  loser.  Some  people  cannot  gain  upon 
themselves  to  be  easy  and  civil  to  those  who  are 
either  their  rivals,  competitors,  or  opposers,  though, 


198     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

independently  of  those  accidental  circumstances, 
they  would  like  and  esteem  them.  They  betray 
a  shyness  and  an  awkwardness  in  company  with 
them  and  catch  at  any  little  thing  to  expose  them, 
and  so  from  temporary  and  only  occasional  oppo- 
nents make  them  their  personal  enemies.  This  is 
exceedingly  weak  and  detrimental,  as  indeed  is  all 
humor  in  business,  which  can  only  be  carried  on 
successfully  by  unadulterated  good  policy  and  right 
reasoning.  In  such  situations  I  would  be  more 
particularly  and  noblement  civil,  easy,  and  frank  with 
the  man  whose  designs  I  traversed.  This  is  com- 
monly called  generosity  and  magnanimity  but  is  in 
truth  good  sense  and  policy.  The  manner  is  often 
as  important  as  the  matter,  sometimes  more  so.  A 
favor  may  make  an  enemy  and  an  injury  may  make 
a  friend  according  to  the  different  manner  in  which 
they  are  severally  done.  The  countenance,  the 
address,  the  words,  the  enunciation,  the  Graces  add 
great  efficacy  to  the  suaviter  in  modo  and  great 
dignity  to  the  fortiter  in  re  ;  and  consequently  they 
deserve  the  utmost  attention. 

From  what  has  been  said,  I  conclude  with  this 
observation,  —  that  gentleness  of  manners  with  firm- 
ness of  mind  is  a  short  but  full  description  of  human 
perfection  on  this  side  of  religious  and  moral  duties. 
That  you  may  be  seriously  convinced  of  this  truth 
and  show  it  in  your  life  and  conversation,  is  the 
most  sincere  and  ardent  wish  of, 
Yours. 


TO  HIS  SON.  199 


LII. 


LES  BIENSEANCES.—THK  PROPER  DEMEANOR  WITH 
ONE'S  SUPERIORS,  IN  MIXED  COMPANIES,  AND 
WITH  ONE'S  INFERIORS. 

Greenwich, y««^  13,  o.  s.  1751. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  Les  bienseances  ^  are  a  most 
necessary  part  of  the  knowledge  of  the  world. 
They  consist  in  the  relations  of  persons,  things, 
time,  and  place  ;  good  sense  points  them  out,  good 
company  perfects  them  (supposing  always  an  atten- 
tion and  a  desire  to  please),  and  good  policy 
recommends  them. 

Were  you  to  converse  with  a  king,  you  ought  to 
be  as  easy  and  unembarrassed  as  with  your  own 
valet  de  chanibre  \  but  yet,  every  look,  word,  and 
action  should  imply  the  utmost  respect.  What 
would  be  proper  and  well  bred  with  others  much 
your  superiors  would  be  absurd  and  ill  bred  with 
one  so  very  much  so.  You  must  wait  till  you  are 
spoken  to ;  you  must  receive  not  give  the  subject 
of  conversation ;  and  you  must  even  take  care  that 
the  given  subject  of  such  conversation  do  not  lead 
you  into  any  impropriety.  The  art  would  be  to 
carry  it,  if  possible,  to  some  indirect  flattery, — such 
as  commending  those  virtues  in  some  other  person 
in  which  that  prince  either  thinks  he  does,  or  at 
least  would  be  thought  by  others  to  excel.  Almost 
the  same  precautions  are  necessary  to  be  used  with 
ministers,  generals,  etc.,  who  expect  to  be  treated 
1  Good  breeding ;  decorum ;  propriety. 


200     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

with  very  near  the  same  respect  as  their  masters, 
and  commonly  deserve  it  better.  There  is,  how- 
ever, this  difference,  that  one  may  begin  the  con- 
versation with  them,  if  on  their  side  it  should  hap- 
pen to  drop,  provided  one  does  not  carry  it  to  any 
subject  upon  which  it  is  improper  either  for  them 
to  speak  or  be  spoken  to.  In  these  two  cases 
certain  attitudes  and  actions  would  be  extremely 
absurd,  because  too  easy  and  consequently  disre- 
spectful. As  for  instance  if  you  were  to  put  your 
arms  across  in  your  bosom,  twirl  your  snuff-box, 
trample  with  your  feet,  scratch  your  head,  etc.,  it 
would  be  shockingly  ill  bred  in  that  company ;  and 
indeed  not  extremely  well  bred  in  any  other.  The 
great  difficulty  in  those  cases,  though  a  very  sur- 
mountable one  by  attention  and  custom,  is  to  join 
perfect  inward  ease  with  perfect  outward  respect. 

In  mixed  companies  with  your  equals  (for  in 
mixed  companies  all  people  are  to  a  certain  degree 
equal) ,  greater  ease  and  liberty  are  allowed ;  but 
they  too  have  their  bounds  within  biens^ance.  There 
is  a  social  respect  necessary :  you  may  start  your 
own  subject  of  conversation  with  modesty,  taking 
great  care,  however,  "de  ne  jamais  parler  de  cordes 
dans  la  maison  d'un  pendu."  ^  Your  words,  gestures, 
and  attitudes  have  a  greater  degree  of  latitude, 
though  by  no  means  an  unbounded  one.  You  may 
have  your  hands  in  your  pockets,  take  snuff,  sit, 
stand,  or  occasionally  walk,  as  you  like ;  but  I 
believe  you  would  not  think   it  very  bienskant  to 

1  Never  to  mention  a  rope  in  the  family  of  a  man  who 
has  been  hanged. 


TO  HIS  SON.  20 1 

whistle,  put  on  your  hat,  loosen  your  garters  or  your 
buckles,  lie  down  upon  a  couch,  or  go  to  bed,  and 
welter  in  an  easy-chair.  These  are  negligences  and 
freedoms  which  one  can  only  take  when  quite  alone  ; 
they  are  injurious  to  superiors,  shocking  and  offen- 
sive to  equals,  brutal  and  insulting  to  inferiors. 
That  easiness  of  carriage  and  behavior  which  is 
exceedingly  engaging  widely  differs  from  negligence 
and  inattention,  and  by  no  means  implies  that  one 
may  do  whatever  one  pleases,  —  it  only  means  that 
one  is  not  to  be  stiff,  formal,  embarrassed,  discon- 
certed, and  ashamed,  like  country  bumpkins  and 
people  who  have  never  been  in  good  company; 
but  it  requires  great  attention  to  and  a  scrupulous 
observation  of  les  biensiances.  Whatever  one  ought 
to  do  is  to  be  done  with  ease  and  unconcern ; 
whatever  is  improper  must  not  be  done  at  all.  In 
mixed  companies  also,  different  ages  and  sexes  are 
to  be  differently  addressed.  You  would  not  talk  of 
your  pleasures  to  men  of  a  certain  age,  gravity,  and 
dignity ;  they  justly  expect  from  young  people  a 
degree  of  deference  and  regard.  You  should  be 
full  as  easy  with  them  as  with  people  of  your  own 
years,  but  your  manner  must  be  different ;  more 
respect  must  be  implied ;  and  it  is  not  amiss  to 
insinuate  that  from  them  you  expect  to  learn.  It 
flatters  and  comforts  age  for  not  being  able  to  take 
a  part  in  the  joy  and  titter  of  youth.  To  women 
you  should  always  address  yourself  with  great  out- 
ward respect  and  attention,  whatever  you  feel  in- 
wardly. Their  sex  is  by  long  prescription  entitled 
to  it ;  and  it  is  among  the  duties  of  bienseance.    At 


202     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

the  same  time  that  respect  is  very  properly  and 
very  agreeably  mixed  with  a  degree  of  enjouement 
if  you  have  it :  but  then,  that  badinage  must  either 
directly  or  indirectly  tend  to  their  praise,  and  even 
not  be  liable  to  a  malicious  construction  to  their 
disadvantage.  But  here,  too,  great  attention  must 
be  had  to  the  difference  of  age,  rank,  and  situation. 
A  Mare'chale  of  fifty  must  not  be  played  with  like  a 
young  coquette  of  fifteen ;  respect  and  serious  en- 
jouement, if  I  may  couple  those  two  words,  must 
be  used  with  the  former,  and  mere  badinage,  zeste' 
meme  d^un  peu  de  polissonerie  is  pardonable  with 
the  latter. 

Another  important  point  of  les  bie?iseances,  seldom 
■enough  attended  to,  is  not  to  run  your  own  present 
humor  and  disposition  indiscriminately  against  every- 
body ;  but  to  observe,  conform  to,  and  adopt  theirs. 
For  example,  if  you  happened  to  be  in  high  good- 
humor  and  a  flow  of  spirits,  would  you  go  and  sing 
a  pont  tieuf^  or  cut  a  caper  to  la  Mar^chale  de 
Coigny,  the  Pope's  Nuncio,  or  Abbe  Sallier,  or  to  any 
person  of  natural  gravity  and  melancholy,  or  who 
at  that  time  should  be  in  grief?  I  believe  not ; 
as  on  the  other  hand,  I  suppose  that  if  you  were 
in  low  spirits  or  real  grief,  you  would  not  choose 
to  bewail  your  situation  with  la  petite  Blot.  If  you 
cannot  command  your  present  humor  and  disposi- 
tion, single  out  those  to  converse  with  who  happen 
to  be  in  the  humor  the  nearest  to  your  own. 

Loud  laughter  is  extremely  inconsistent  with  les 
iienseancesy  as  it  is  only  the  illiberal  and  noisy  testi- 
1  Ballad. 


TO  HIS  SON.  203 

mony  of  the  joy  of  the  mob  at  some  very  silly  thing. 
A  gentleman  is  often  seen  but  very  seldom  heard  to 
laugh.  Nothing  is  more  contrary  to  les  bienseances 
than  horse-play,  or  jeux  de  main  of  any  kind  what- 
ever, and  has  often  very  serious,  sometimes  very 
fatal  consequences.  Romping,  struggling,  throwing 
things  at  one  another's  head,  are  the  becoming 
pleasantries  of  the  mob,  but  degrade  a  gentleman ; 
Giuoco  di  mano,  giuoco  di  villano  is  a  very  true  say- 
ing, among  the  few  true  sayings  of  the  Italians. 

Peremptoriness  and  decision  in  young  people  is 
contraire  aux  bienseances,  and  they  should  seldom 
seem  to  assert,  and  always  use  some  softening, 
mitigating  expression,  —  such  as,  sHlnt'est permis  de 
le  dire ;  je  croirois  plutdt ;  si  j^ose  m^expliquery 
which  soften  the  manner  without  giving  up  or  even 
weakening  the  thing.  People  of  more  age  and  ex- 
perience expect  and  are  entitled  to  that  degree  of 
deference. 

There  is  a  biensdance  also  with  regard  to  people 
of  the  lowest  degree  ;  a  gentleman  observes  it  with 
his  footman,  even  with  the  beggar  in  the  street.  He 
considers  them  as  objects  of  compassion,  not  of 
insult ;  he  speaks  to  neither  d'un  ton  brusque,  but 
corrects  the  one  coolly,  and  refuses  the  other  with 
humanity.  There  is  no  one  occasion  in  the  world 
in  which  le  toti  brusque  is  becoming  a  gentleman. 
In  short,  les  bienseances  are  another  word  for  mati- 
ners,  and  extend  to  every  part  of  life.  They  are 
propriety;  the  Graces  should  attend,  in  order  to 
complete  them.  The  Graces  enable  us  to  do,  gen- 
teelly and  pleasingly,  what  les  bienseances  require 


204    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

to  be  done  at  all.  The  latter  are  an  obligation 
upon  every  man ;  the  former  are  an  infinite  advan- 
tage and  ornament  to  any  man.  May  you  unite 
both! 


LIII. 

THE  GRACES— THE  WRITER'S   EARLY  DEFECTS  — 
DRESS. 

London,  June  24,  o.  s.  1751. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  Air,  address,  manners,  and 
graces  are  of  such  infinite  advantage  to  whoever 
has  them,  and  so  peculiarly  and  essentially  neces- 
sary for  you,  that  now  as  the  time  of  our  meeting 
draws  near  I  tremble  for  fear  I  should  not  find  you 
possessed  of  them ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
doubt  you  are  not  yet  sufficiently  convinced  of  their 
importance.  There  is,  for  instance,  your  intimate 
friend  Mr.  H[ayes],  who  with  great  merit,  deep 
knowledge,  and  a  thousand  good  qualities  will 
never  make  a  figure  in  the  world  while  he  lives. 
Why  ?  Merely  for  want  of  those  external  and  show- 
ish  accomplishments  which  he  began  the  world  too 
late  to  acquire,  and  which  with  his  studious  and 
philosophical  turn,  I  believe  he  thinks  are  not  worth 
his  attention.  He  may  very  probably  make  a  fig- 
ure in  the  republic  of  letters ;  but  he  had  ten  thou- 
sand times  better  make  a  figure  as  a  man  of  the 
world  and  of  business  in  the  republic  of  the  United 
Provinces,  which,  take  my  word  for  it,  he  never  will. 


TO  HIS  SON.  205 

As  I  open  myself  without  the  least  reserve  when- 
ever I  think  that  my  doing  so  can  be  of  any  use  to 
you,  I  will  give  you  a  short  account  of  myself  when 
I  first  came  into  the  world,  which  was  at  the  age 
you  are  of  now,  so  that,  by  the  way,  you  have  got 
the  start  of  me  in  that  important  article  by  two  or 
three  years  at  least.  At  nineteen,  I  left  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge,  where  I  was  an  absolute 
pedant.  When  I  talked  my  best,  I  quoted  Horace  ; 
when  I  aimed  at  being  facetious,  I  quoted  Martial ; 
and  when  I  had  a  mind  to  be  a  fine  gentleman,  I 
talked  Ovid.  I  was  convinced  that  none  but  the 
ancients  had  common-sense ;  that  the  classics  con- 
tained everything  that  was  either  necessary,  useful, 
or  ornamental  to  men ;  and  I  was  not  without 
thoughts  of  wearing  the  toga  virilis  of  the  Romans 
instead  of  the  vulgar  and  illiberal  dress  of  the 
modems.-'  With  these  excellent  notions,  I  went 
first  to  the  Hague,  where,  by  the  help  of  several 
letters  of  recommendation,  I  was  soon  introduced 
into  all  the  best  company,  and  where  I  very  soon 
discovered  that  I  was  totally  mistaken  in  almost 
every  one  notion  I  had  entertained.  Fortunately, 
I  had  a  strong  desire  to  please  (the  mixed  result 
of  good-nature  and  a  vanity  by  no  means  blame- 
able)  and  was  sensible  that  I  had  nothing  but  the 
desire.  I  therefore  resolved,  if  possible,  to  acquire 
the  means  too.     I  studied  attentively  and  minutely 

^  "  Yet  there  is  reason  to  suspect  that  this  was  not  the  real 
fact  with  himself,  but  only  an  encouraging  example  held 
forth  to  his  son  to  show  him  how  pedantry  may  be  success- 
fully surmounted."     (Lord  Mahon.) 


206    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

the  dress,  the  air,  the  manner,  the  address,  and  the 
turn  of  conversation  of  all  those  whom  I  found  to 
be  the  people  in  fashion  and  most  generally  allowed 
to  please.  I  imitated  them  as  well  as  I  could ;  if 
I  heard  that  one  man  was  reckoned  remarkably 
genteel,  I  carefiiUy  watched  his  dress,  motions,  and 
attitudes,  and  formed  my  own  upon  them.  When 
I  heard  of  another  whose  conversation  was  agree- 
able and  engaging,  I  listened  and  attended  to  the 
turn  of  it.  I  addressed  myself,  though  de  ires  niau- 
vaise  grace,  to  all  the  most  fashionable  fine  ladies ; 
confessed,  and  laughed  with  them  at  my  own  awk- 
wardness and  rawness,  recommending  myself  as  an 
object  for  them  to  try  their  skill  in  forming.  By 
these  means,  and  with  a  passionate  desire  of  pleas- 
ing everybody,  I  came  by  degrees  to  please  some ; 
and  I  can  assure  you  that  what  little  figure  I  have 
made  in  the  world  has  been  much  more  owing  to 
that  passionate  desire  of  pleasing  universally  than 
to  any  intrinsic  merit  or  sound  knowledge  I  might 
ever  have  been  master  of.  My  passion  for  pleasing 
was  so  strong  (and  I  am  very  glad  it  was  so)  that 
T  own  to  you  fairly,  I  wished  to  make  every  woman 
I  saw  in  love  with  me  and  every  man  I  met  with 
admire  me.  Without  this  passion  for  the  object, 
I  should  never  have  been  so  attentive  to  the  means ; 
and  I  own  I  cannot  conceive  how  it  is  possible 
for  any  man  of  good  nature  and  good  sense  to  be 
without  this  passion.  Does  not  good  nature  incline 
us  to  please  all  those  we  converse  with,  of  whatever 
rank  or  station  they  may  be  ?  And  does  not  good 
sense  and  common   observation   show  of  what  in- 


TO  HIS  SON.  207 

finite  use  it  is  to  please  ?  Oh  !  but  one  may  please 
by  the  good  qualities  of  the  heart  ancT  the  know- 
ledge of  the  head,  without  that  fashionable  air, 
address,  and  manner,  which  is  mere  tinsel.  I  deny 
it.  A  man  may  be  esteemed  and  respected,  but 
I  defy  him  to  please  without  them.  Moreover,  at 
your  age  I  would  not  have  contented  myself  with 
barely  pleasing;  I  wanted  to  shine  and  to  distin- 
guish myself  in  the  world  as  a  man  of  fashion  and 
gallantry,  as  well  as  business.  And  that  ambition 
or  vanity,  call  it  what  you  please,  was  a  right  one ; 
it  hurt  nobody,  and  made  me  exert  whatever  talents 
I  had.  It  is  the  spring  of  a  thousand  right  and 
good  things. 

I  was  talking  you  over  the  other  day  with  one 
very  much  your  friend,  and  who  had  often  been 
with  you,  both  at  Paris  and  in  Italy.  Among  the 
innumerable  questions  which  you  may  be  sure  I 
asked  him  concerning  you,  I  happened  to  mention 
your  dress  (for,  to  say  the  truth,  it  was  the  only 
thing  of  which  I  thought  him  a  competent  judge) , 
upon  which  he  said  that  you  dressed  tolerably  well 
at  Paris;  but  that  in  Italy  you  dressed  so  ill  that 
he  used  to  joke  with  you  upon  it,  and  even  to  tear 
your  clothes.  Now,  I  must  tell  you  that  at  your 
age  it  is  as  ridiculous  not  to  be  very  well  dressed  as 
at  my  age  it  would  be  if  I  were  to  wear  a  white 
feather  and  red-heeled  shoes.  Dress  is  one  of  vari- 
ous ingredients  that  contribute  to  the  art  of  pleas- 
ing ;  it  pleases  the  eyes  at  least,  and  more  especially 
of  women.  Address  yourself  to  the  senses,  if  you 
would  please ;  dazzle   the  eyes,  soothe  and  flatter 


208     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

the  ears  of  mankind ;  engage  their  hearts,  and  let 
their  reason 'do  its  worst  against  you.  Suaviter  in 
modo  is  the  great  secret.  Whenever  you  find  your- 
self engaged  insensibly  in  favor  of  anybody  of  no 
superior  merit  nor  distinguished  talents,  examine 
and  see  what  it  is  that  has  made  those  impressions 
upon  you,  and  you  will  find  it  to  be  that  douceur, 
that  gentleness  of  manners,  that  air  and  address, 
which  I  have  so  often  recommended  to  you ;  and 
from  thence  draw  this  obvious  conclusion,  —  that 
what  pleases  you  in  them,  will  please  others  in  you, 
for  we  are  all  made  of  the  same  clay,  though  some  of 
the  lumps  are  a  little  finer  and  some  a  little  coarser ; 
but  in  general  the  surest  way  to  judge  of  others 
is  to  examine  and  analyze  one's  self  thoroughly. 
When  we  meet  I  will  assist  you  in  that  analysis,  in 
which  every  man  wants  some  assistance  against  his 
own  self-love.     Adieu. 


LIV. 

ENGLISH  AND  FRENCH   PLAYS  COMPARED. 

London,  yiz;/.  23.  o.  s.  1752. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  Have  you  seen  the  new  trag- 
edy of  "  Varon  "  ^  and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  Let 
me  know,  for  I  am  determined  to  form  my  taste 
upon  yours.  I  hear  that  the  situations  and  inci- 
dents  are    well    brought    on    and    the    catastrophe 

1  Written  by  the  Vicomte  de  Grave,  and  at  that  time  the 
general  topic  of  conversation  at  Paris. 


TO  HIS  SON.  209 

unexpected  and  surprising,  but  the  verses  bad.  I 
suppose  it  is  the  subject  of  all  the  conversations  at 
Paris,  where  both  women  and  men  are  judges  and 
critics  of  all  such  performances.  Such  conversations 
that  both  form  and  improve  the  taste  and  whet  the 
judgment  are  surely  preferable  to  the  conversations 
of  our  mixed  companies  here,  which  if  they  hap- 
pen to  rise  above  bragg  and  whist  infallibly  stop 
short  of  everything  either  pleasing  or  instructive. 
I  take  the  reason  of  this  to  be  that  (as  women  gen- 
erally give  the  ton  to  the  conversation)  our  English 
women  are  not  near  so  well  informed  and  cultivated 
as  the  French ;  besides  that  they  are  naturally  more 
serious  and  silent. 

I  could  wish  there  were  a  treaty  made  between  the 
French  and  English  theatres  in  which  both  parties 
should  make  considerable  concessions.  The  Eng- 
lish ought  to  give  up  their  notorious  violations  of 
all  the  unities,  and  all  their  massacres,  racks,  dead 
bodies,  and  mangled  carcasses  which  they  so  fre- 
quently exhibit  upon  their  stage.  The  French  should 
engage  to  have  more  action  and  less  declamation  ; 
and  not  to  cram  and  crowd  things  together  to  al- 
most a  degree  of  impossibility  from  a  too  scrupu- 
lous adherence  to  the  unities.  The  English  should 
restrain  the  licentiousness  of  their  poets  and  the 
French  enlarge  the  liberty  of  theirs :  their  poets 
are  the  greatest  slaves  in  their  country,  and  that  is 
a  bold  word  ;  ours  are  the  most  tumultuous  subjects 
in  England,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  Under 
such  regulations  one  might  hope  to  see  a  play  in 
which  one  should  not  be  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
14 


2IO     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

length  of  a  monotonical  declamation  nor  frightened 
and  shocked  by  the  barbarity  of  the  action ;  the 
unity  of  time  extended  occasionally  to  three  or  four 
days  and  the  unity  of  place  broke  into  as  far  as  the 
same  street,  or  sometimes  the  same  town,  —  both 
which  I  will  affirm  are  as  probable  as  four-and- 
twenty  hours  and  the  same  room. 

More  indulgence  too,  in  my  mind,  should  be 
shown  than  the  French  are  willing  to  allow  to 
bright  thoughts  and  to  shining  images ;  for  though 
I  confess  it  is  not  very  natural  for  a  hero  or  a  prin- 
cess to  say  fine  things  in  all  the  violence  of  grief, 
love,  rage,  etc.,  yet  I  can  as  well  suppose  that  as 
I  can  that  they  should  talk  to  themselves  for  half 
an  hour;  which  they  must  necessarily  do  or  no 
tragedy  could  be  carried  on,  unless  they  had  re- 
course to  a  much  greater  absurdity,  —  the  choruses  of 
the  ancients.  Tragedy  is  of  a  nature  that  one  must 
see  it  with  a  degree  of  self-deception ;  we  must  lend 
ourselves  a  little  to  the  delusion;  and  I  am  very 
willing  to  carry  that  complaisance  a  little  farther 
than  the  French  do. 

Tragedy  must  be  something  bigger  than  life  or  it 
would  not  effect  us.  In  Nature  the  most  violent 
passions  are  silent ;  in  tragedy  they  must  speak,  and 
speak  with  dignity  too.  Hence  the  necessity  of 
their  being  written  in  verse,  and  unfortunately  for 
the  French,  from  the  weakness  of  their  language,  in 
rhymes.  And  for  the  same  reason  Cato  the  Stoic, 
expiring  at  Utica,  rhymes  masculine  and  feminine 
at  Paris,  and  fetches  his  last  breath  at  London  in 
most  harmonious  and  correct  blank  verse. 


TO  HIS  SON.  211 

It  is  quite  othenvise  with  comedy,  which  should 
be  mere  common  Hfe  and  not  one  jot  bigger. 
Every  character  should  speak  upon  the  stage,  not 
only  what  it  would  utter  in  the  situation  there  re- 
presented, but  in  the  same  manner  in  which  it 
would  express  it.  For  which  reason  I  cannot  allow 
rhymes  in  comedy,  unless  they  were  put  into  the 
mouth  and  came  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  mad  poet. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  deceive  one's  self  enough 
(nor  is  it  the  least  necessary  in  comedy)  to  suppose 
a  dull  rogue  of  a  usurer  cheating,  or  gros  Jean 
blundering,  in  the  finest  rhymes  in  the  world. 

As  for  operas  they  are  essentially  too  absurd  and 
extravagant  to  mention.  I  look  upon  them  as  a 
magic  scene  contrived  to  please  the  eyes  and  the 
ears,  at  the  expense  of  the  understanding ;  and  I 
consider  singing,  rhyming,  and  chiming  heroes  and 
princesses  and  philosophers,  as  I  do  the  hills,  the 
trees,  the  birds,  and  the  beasts  who  amicably  joined 
in  one  common  country-dance  to  the  irresistible 
turn  of  Orpheus's  lyre.  Whenever  I  go  to  an  opera 
I  leave  my  sense  and  reason  at  the  door  with  my 
half  guinea,  and  deliver  myself  up  to  my  eyes  and 
ray  ears. 


LV. 

UTILITY  OF  AIMING  AT  PERFECTION, 

London,  Feb.  20,  o.  s.  1752. 
My  dear   Friend,  —  In  all   systems  whatsoever, 
whether  of  religion,  government,  morals,  etc.,  perfec- 


212     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

tion  is  the  object  always  proposed,  though  possibly 
unattainable,  —  hitherto  at  least  certainly  unattained. 
However,  those  who  aim  carefully  at  the  mark  itself 
will  unquestionably  come  nearer  it  than  those  who 
from  despair,  negligence,  or  indolence  leave  to 
chance  the  work  of  skill.  This  maxim  holds  equally 
true  in  common  life ;  those  who  aim  at  perfection 
will  come  infinitely  nearer  it  than  those  desponding 
or  indolent  spirits  who  foolishly  say  to  themselves, 
"  Nobody  is  perfect ;  perfection  is  unattainable ; 
to  attempt  it  is  chimerical ;  I  shall  do  as  well  as 
others ;  why  then  should  I  give  myself  trouble  to  be 
what  I  never  can,  and  what  according  to  the  com- 
mon course  of  things  I  need  not  be,  — perfect?  " 

I  am  very  sure  that  I  need  not  point  out  to  you 
the  weakness  and  the  folly  of  this  reasoning,  if  it 
deserves  the  name  of  reasoning.  It  would  discour- 
age and  put  a  stop  to  the  exertion  of  any  one  of  our 
faculties.  On  the  contrary  a  man  of  sense  and 
spirit  says  to  himself,  "  Though  the  point  of  perfec- 
tion may  (considering  the  imperfection  of  our 
nature)  be  unattainable,  my  care,  my  endeavors,  my 
attention,  shall  not  be  wanting  to  get  as  near  it  as  I 
can.  I  will  approach  it  every  day ;  possibly  I  may 
arrive  at  it  at  last ;  at  least  —  what  I  am  sure  is  in 
my  own  power  —  I  will  not  be  distanced."  Many 
fools  (speaking  of  you)  say  to  me,  "  What !  would 
you  have  him  perfect?  "  I  answer,  Why  not?  What 
hurt  would  it  do  him  or  me  ?  "  Oh,  but  that  is  im- 
possible," say  they ;  I  reply  I  am  not  sure  of  that : 
perfection  in  the  abstract  I  admit  to  be  unattainable, 
but  what  is  commonly  called  perfection  in  a  char- 


TO  HIS  SON.  213 

acter  I  maintain  to  be  attainable,  and  not  only  that 
but  in  every  man's  power.  "  He  has,"  continue  they, 
"  a  good  head,  a  good  heart,  a  good  fund  of  know- 
ledge, which  would  increase  daily :  what  would  you 
have  more?"  Why,  I  would  have  everything  more 
that  can  adorn  and  complete  a  character.  Will  it 
do  his  head,  his  heart,  or  his  knowledge  any  harm 
to  have  the  utmost  delicacy  of  manners,  the  most 
shining  advantages  of  air  and  address,  the  most 
endearing  attentions  and  the  most  engaging  graces? 
"  But  as  he  is,"  say  they,  "  he  is  loved  wherever  he  is 
known."  I  am  very  glad  of  it,  say  I ;  but  I  would 
have  him  be  liked  before  he  is  known  and  loved 
afterwards.  I  would  have  him  by  his  first  abord 
and  address,  make  people  wish  to  know  him,  and 
inclined  to  love  him ;  he  will  save  a  great  deal  of 
time  by  it.  "  Indeed,"  reply  they,  "  you  are  too 
nice,  too  exact,  and  lay  too  much  stress  upon  things 
that  are  of  very  little  consequence."  Indeed,  rejoin 
I,  you  know  very  little  of  the  nature  of  mankind  if 
you  take  those  things  to  be  of  little  consequence ; 
one  cannot  be  too  attentive  to  them ;  it  is  they  that 
always  engage  the  heart,  of  which  the  understanding 
is  commonly  the  bubble.  And  I  would  much  rather 
that  he  erred  in  a  point  of  grammar,  of  history,  of 
philosophy,  etc.,  than  in  point  of  manners  and  ad- 
dress. "  But  consider,  he  is  very  young  :  all  this  will 
come  in  time."  I  hope  so ;  but  that  time  must  be 
when  he  is  young  or  it  will  never  be  at  all;  the 
right  ///  must  be  taken  young,  or  it  will  never  be 
easy  or  seem  natural.  "  Come,  come,"  say  they 
(substituting  as  is  frequently  done,  assertion  instead  of 


214    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

argument),  "depend  upon  it  he  will  do  very  well; 
and  you  have  a  great  deal  of  reason  to  be  satisfied 
with  him."  I  hope  and  believe  he  will  do  well  but  I 
would  have  him  do  better  than  well.  I  am  very  well 
pleased  with  him  but  I  would  be  more,  —  I  would 
be  proud  of  him.  I  would  have  him  have  lustre  as 
well  as  weight.  "  Did  you  ever  know  anybody  that 
re-united  all  these  talents?  "  Yes,  I  did;  Lord  Bo- 
lingbroke  joined  all  the  politeness,  the  manners,  and 
the  graces  of  a  courtier  to  the  solidity  of  a  states- 
man and  to  the  learning  of  a  pedant.  He  was 
omnis  homo  ;  and  pray  what  should  hinder  my  boy 
from  being  so  too,  if  he  has  as  I  think  he  has  all 
the  other  qualifications  that  you  allow  him  ?  Noth- 
ing can  hinder  him  but  neglect  of  or  inattention  to 
those  objects  which  his  own  good  sense  must  tell 
him  are  of  infinite  consequence  to  him,  and  which 
therefore  I  will  not  suppose  him  capable  of  either 
neglecting  or  despising. 

This  (to  tell  you  the  whole  truth)  is  the  result  of 
a  controversy  that  passed  yesterday  between  Lady 
Hervey  and  myself,  upon  your  subject  and  almost 
in  the  very  words.  I  submit  the  decision  of  it  to 
yourself;  let  your  own  good  sense  determine  it,  and 
make  you  act  in  consequence  of  that  determination. 
The  receipt  to  make  this  composition  is  short  and 
infallible  ;  here  I  give  it  you  :  — 

Take  variety  of  the  best  company  wherever  you 
are ;  be  minutely  attentive  to  every  word  and 
action ;  imitate  respectively  those  whom  you  ob- 
serve to  be  distinguished  and  considered  for  any 
one  accomplishment;    then  mix  all   those  several 


TO  HIS  SON.  215 

accomplishments  together  and  serve  them  up  your- 
self to  others. 


LVI. 

THE  STUDY  OF  THE  WORLD.  —  COMPANY  THE 
ONLY  SCHOOL, 

London,  March  16,  o.  s.  1752. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  How  do  you  go  on  with  the 
most  useful  and  most  necessary  of  all  studies,  — 
the  study  of  the  world?  Do  you  find  that  you  gain 
knowledge ;  and  does  your  daily  experience  at 
once  extend  and  demonstrate  your  improvement? 
You  will  possibly  ask  me  how  you  can  judge  of  that 
yourself.  I  will  tell  you  a  sure  way  of  knowing. 
Examine  yourself  and  see  whether  your  notions  of 
the  world  are  changed  by  experience  from  what 
they  were  two  years  ago  in  theory ;  for  that  alone  is 
one  favorable  symptom  of  improvement.  At  that 
age  (I  remember  it  in  myself)  every  notion  that 
one  forms  is  erroneous ;  one  has  seen  few  models 
and  those  none  of  the  best  to  form  one's  self  upon. 
One  thinks  that  everything  is  to  be  carried  by  spirit 
and  vigor  ;  that  art  is  meanness,  and  that  versatility 
and  complaisance  are  the  refuge  of  pusillanimity  and 
weakness.  This  most  mistaken  opinion  gives  an 
indelicacy,  a  brusquerie,  and  a  roughness  to  the 
manners.  Fools,  who  can  never  be  undeceived,  re- 
tain them  as  long  as  they  live ;  reflection  with  a 
little  experience  makes  men  of  sense  shake  them  oflf 


2l6    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

soon.  When  they  come  to  be  a  little  better  ac- 
quainted with  themselves  and  with  their  own  species, 
they  discover  that  plain  right  reason  is  nine  times  in 
ten  the  fettered  and  shackled  attendant  of  the 
triumph  of  the  heart  and  the  passions ;  and  conse- 
quently they  address  themselves  nine  times  in  ten 
to  the  conqueror,  not  to  the  conquered  :  and  con- 
querors you  know  must  be  applied  to  in  the  gen- 
tlest, the  most  engaging,  and  the  most  insinuating 
manner.  Have  you  found  out  that  every  woman  is 
infallibly  to  be  gained  by  every  sort  of  flattery,  and 
every  man  by  one  sort  or  other?  Have  you  dis- 
covered what  variety  of  little  things  affect  the  heart 
and  how  surely  they  collectively  gain  it?  If  you 
have,  you  have  made  some  progress.  I  would  try  a 
man's  knowledge  of  the  world  as  I  would  a  school- 
boy's knowledge  of  Horace,  —  not  by  making  him 
construe  McBcenas  atavis  edite  regibus,  which  he 
could  do  in  the  first  form,  but  by  examining  him 
as  to  the  delicacy  and  curiosa  felicitas  of  that  poet. 
A  man  requires  very  little  knowledge  and  experience 
of  the  world  to  understand  glaring,  high-colored, 
and  decided  characters ;  they  are  but  few  and  they 
strike  at  first.  But  to  distinguish  the  almost  imper- 
ceptible shades  and  the  nice  gradations  of  virtue 
and  vice,  sense  and  folly,  strength  and  weakness 
(of  which  characters  are  commonly  composed),  de- 
mands some  experience,  great  observation,  and 
minute  attention.  In  the  same  cases  most  people 
do  the  same  things,  but  with  this  material  difference, 
upon  which  the  success  commonly  turns,  —  a  man 
who  has  studied  the  world  knows  when  to  time  and 


TO  HIS  sojsr.  217 

where  to  place  them  ;  he  has  analyzed  the  charac- 
ters he  applies  to,  and  adapted  his  address  and  his 
arguments  to  them  :  but  a  man  of  what  is  called 
plain  good  sense,  who  has  only  reasoned  by  himself 
and  not  acted  with  mankind,  mistimes,  misplaces, 
runs  precipitately  and  bluntly  at  the  mark,  and  falls 
upon  his  nose  in  the  way.  In  the  common  man- 
ners of  social  life  every  man  of  common-sense  has 
the  rudiments,  the  A  B  C  of  civility ;  he  means  not 
to  offend  and  even  wishes  to  please,  and  if  he  has 
any  real  merit  will  be  received  and  tolerated  in 
good  company.  But  that  is  far  from  being  enough ; 
for  though  he  may  be  received  he  will  never  be 
desired ;  though  he  does  not  offend  he  will  never 
be  loved ;  but  like  some  little,  insignificant,  neutral 
power  surrounded  by  great  ones,  he  will  neither  be 
feared  nor  courted  by  any,  but  by  turns  invaded  by 
all,  whenever  it  is  their  interest.  A  most  contemp- 
tible situation  !  Whereas  a  man  who  has  carefully 
attended  to  and  experienced  the  various  workings 
of  the  heart  and  the  artifices  of  the  head,  and  who 
by  one  shade  can  trace  the  progression  of  the  whole 
color ;  who  can  at  the  proper  times  employ  all  the 
several  means  of  persuading  the  understanding,  and 
engaging  the  heart,  may  and  will  have  enemies,  but 
will  and  must  have  friends.  He  may  be  opposed, 
but  he  will  be  supported  too ;  his  talents  may  excite 
the  jealousy  of  some,  but  his  engaging  arts  will  make 
him  beloved  by  many  more;  he  will  be  consider- 
able ;  he  will  be  considered.  Many  different  quali- 
fications must  conspire  to  form  such  a  man,  and  to 
make  him  at  once  respectable  and  amiable ;  and  the 


21 8    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

least  must  be  joined  to  the  greatest;  the  latter 
would  be  unavailing  without  the  former,  and  the 
former  would  be  futile  and  frivolous  without  the 
latter.  Learning  is  acquired  by  reading  books  ;  but 
the  much  more  necessary  learning,  the  knowledge  of 
the  world,  is  only  to  be  acquired  by  reading  men 
and  studying  all  the  various  editions  of  them. 
Many  words  in  every  language  are  generally  thought 
to  be  synonymous ;  but  those  who  study  the  lan- 
guage attentively  will  find  that  there  is  no  such 
thing.  They  will  discover  some  little  difference,  some 
distinction  between  all  those  words  that  are  vulgarly 
called  synonymous ;  one  has  always  more  energy, 
extent,  or  delicacy  than  another.  It  is  the  same 
with  men ;  all  are  in  general,  and  yet  no  two  in  par- 
ticular, exactly  alike.  Those  who  have  not  accu- 
rately studied,  perpetually  mistake  them ;  they  do 
not  discern  the  shades  and  gradations  that  distin- 
guish characters  seemingly  alike.  Company,  various 
company,  is  the  only  school  for  this  knowledge. 
You  ought  to  be  by  this  time  at  least  in  the  third 
form  of  that  school  from  whence  the  rise  to  the 
uppermost  is  easy  and  quick;  but  then  you  must 
have  application  and  vivacity,  and  you  must  not 
only  bear  with  but  even  seek  restraint  in  most  com- 
panies instead  of  stagnating  in  one  or  two  only 
where  indolence  and  love  of  ease  may  be  indulged. 


TO  HIS  SON.  219 

LVII. 
HOW   HISTORY  SHOULD  BE  WRITTEN.— LOUIS   XIV. 
London,  April  13,  o.  s.  1752. 

Voltaire  sent  me  from  Berlin  his  history  "  du 
Siecle  de  Louis  XIV."  It  came  at  a  very  proper 
time  :  Lord  Bolingbroke  had  just  taught  me  how 
history  should  be  read ;  Voltaire  shows  me  how  it 
should  be  written.  I  am  sensible  that  it  will  meet 
with  almost  as  many  critics  as  readers.  Voltaire 
must  be  criticised  :  besides,  every  man's  favorite  is 
attacked,  for  every  prejudice  is  exposed,  and  our 
prejudices  are  our  mistresses ;  reason  is  at  best  our 
wife,  very  often  heard  indeed,  but  seldom  minded. 
It  is  the  history  of  the  human  understanding  written 
by  a  man  of  parts  for  the  use  of  men  of  parts.  Weak 
minds  will  not  hke  it,  even  though  they  do  not  un- 
derstand it, — which  is  commonly  the  measure  of 
their  admiration.  Dull  ones  will  want  those  minute 
and  uninteresting  details  with  which  most  other 
histories  are  encumbered.  He  tells  me  all  I  want 
to  know  and  nothing  more.  His  reflections  are 
short,  just,  and  produce  others  in  his  readers.  Free 
from  religious,  philosophical,  political,  and  national 
prejudices  beyond  any  historian  I  ever  met  with, 
he  relates  all  those  matters  as  truly  and  as  impar- 
tially as  certain  regards,  which  must  always  be  to 
some  degree  observed,  will  allow  him  :  for  one  sees 
plainly  that  he  often  says  much  less  than  he  would 
say  if  he  might.     He  has  made  me   much  better 


220    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

acquainted  with  the  times  of  Louis  XIV.  than  the 
innumerable  volumes  which  I  had  read  could  do  ; 
and  has  suggested  this  reflection  to  me  which  I 
have  never  made  before,  —  his  vanity,  not  his  knowl- 
edge, made  him  encourage  all  and  introduce  many 
arts  and  sciences  in  his  country.  He  opened  in  a 
manner  the  human  understanding  in  France  and 
brought  it  to  its  utmost  perfection ;  his  age  equalled 
in  all,  and  greatly  exceeded  in  many  things  (pardon 
me,  pedants  !),  the  Augustan.  This  was  great  and 
rapid ;  but  still  it  might  be  done  by  the  encourage- 
ment, the  applause  and  the  rewards  of  a  vain,  liberal, 
and  magnificent  prince.  What  is  much  more  sur- 
prising is,  that  he  stopped  the  operations  of  the 
human  mind  just  where  he  pleased,  and  seemed 
to  say,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther." 
For,  a  bigot  to  his  religion,  and  jealous  of  his  power, 
free  and  rational  thoughts  upon  either  never  entered 
into  a  French  head  during  his  reign ;  and  the 
greatest  geniuses  that  ever  any  age  produced  never 
entertained  a  doubt  of  the  divine  right  of  kings, 
or  the  infallibility  of  the  Church.  Poets,  orators, 
and  philosophers,  ignorant  of  their  natural  rights, 
cherished  their  chains ;  and  blind  active  faith 
triumphed  in  those  great  minds  over  silent  and 
passive  reason.  The  reverse  of  this  seems  now  to 
be  the  case  in  France  :  reason  opens  itself;  fancy 
and  invention  fade  and  decline. ^ 


1  "Chesterfield,"  says  Lord  Carnarvon,  "foretold  the 
French  Revolution  when  the  cloud  was  not  bigger  than  a 
man's  hand." 


TO  HIS  SON.  221 

LVIII. 

A  VOIR  DU  MONDE   EXPLAINED  AND    RECOMMENDED. 

London,  April  30,  o.  s.  1752. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  Avoir  du  monde  is  in  my 
opinion  a  very  just  and  happy  expression  for  hav- 
ing address,  manners,  and  for  knowing  how  to 
behave  properly  in  all  companies ;  and  it  implies 
very  truly  that  a  man  who  has  not  those  accom- 
plishments is  not  of  the  world.  Without  them  the 
best  parts  are  inefficient,  civility  is  absurd,  and 
freedom  offensive.  A  learned  parson  rusting  in  his 
cell  at  Oxford  or  Cambridge  will  reason  admirably 
well  upon  the  nature  of  man  ;  will  profoundly  analyze 
the  head,  the  heart,  the  reason,  the  will,  the  pas- 
sions, the  senses,  the  sentiments,  and  all  those  sub- 
divisions of  we  know  not  what ;  and  yet  unfortu- 
nately he  knows  nothing  of  man,  for  he  has  not 
lived  with  him,  and  is  ignorant  of  all  the  various 
modes,  habits,  prejudices,  and  tastes  that  always 
influence  and  often  determine  him.  He  views 
man  as  he  does  colors  in  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  prism, 
where  only  the  capital  ones  are  seen ;  but  an  ex- 
perienced dyer  knows  all  their  various  shades  and 
gradations,  together  with  the  result  of  their  several 
mixtures.  Few  men  are  of  one  plain  decided  color ; 
most  are  mixed,  shaded,  and  blended,  and  vary  as 
much  from  different  situations  as  changeable  silks 
do  from  different  lights.  The  man  qui  a  du  monde 
knows  all  this  from  his  own  experience  and  observa- 
tion :    the  conceited    cloistered  philosopher  knows 


222     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

nothing  of  it  from  his  own  theory ;  his  practice  is 
absurd  and  improper,  and  he  acts  as  awkwardly  as 
a  man  would  dance  who  had  never  seen  others 
dance  nor  learned  of  a  dancing-master,  but  who 
had  only  studied  the  notes  by  which  dances  are  now 
pricked  down  as  well  as  tunes.  Observe  and  imi- 
tate, then,  the  address,  the  arts,  and  the  manners  of 
those  qui  ont  du  monde  ;  see  by  what  methods  they 
first  make  and  afterwards  improve  impressions  in 
their  favor.  Those  impressions  are  much  oftener 
owing  to  little  causes  than  to  intrinsic  merit,  which 
is  less  volatile  and  has  not  so  sudden  an  effect. 
Strong  minds  have  undoubtedly  an  ascendant  over 
weak  ones,  as  Galigai  Marechale  d'Ancre  very  justly 
observed,  when  to  the  disgrace  and  reproach  of 
those  times  she  was  executed  ^  for  having  governed 
Mary  of  Medicis  by  the  arts  of  witchcraft  and  magic. 
But  then  ascendant  is  to  be  gained  by  degrees,  and 
by  those  arts  only  which  experience  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  teaches ;  for  few  are  mean 
enough  to  be  bullied,  though  most  are  weak  enough 
to  be  bubbled.  I  have  often  seen  people  of  supe- 
rior governed  by  people  of  much  inferior  parts, 
without  knowing  or  even  suspecting  that  they  were 
So  governed.  This  can  only  happen  when  those 
people  of  inferior  parts  have  more  worldly  dexterity 
and  experience  than  those  they  govern.  They  see 
the  weak  and  unguarded  part,  and  apply  to  it ;  they 
take  it  and  all  the  rest  follows.  Would  you  gain 
either  men  or  women  —  and  every  man  of  sense 
desires  to  gain  both  —  ilfaut  du  monde.  You  have 
1  On  the  8th  of  July,  1617. 


TO  HIS  SON.  223 

had  more  opportunities  than  ever  any  man  had  at 
your  age  of  acquiring  ce  tnonde ;  you  have  been  in 
the  best  companies  of  most  countries  at  an  age  when 
others  have  hardly  been  in  any  company  at  all.  You 
are  master  of  all  those  languages  which  John  Trott 
seldom  speaks  at  all,  and  never  well ;  consequently 
you  need  be  a  stranger  nowhere.  This  is  the  way, 
and  the  only  way,  of  having  du  monde  ;  but  if  you 
have  it  not,  and  have  still  any  coarse  rusticity 
about  you,  may  not  one  apply  to  you  the  rusticus 
expectat  of  Horace? 

This  knowledge  of  the  world  teaches  us  more 
particularly  two  things,  both  which  are  of  infinite 
consequence,  and  to  neither  of  which  nature  in- 
clines us ;  I  mean,  the  command  of  our  temper 
and  of  our  countenance.  A  man  who  has  no  monde 
is  inflamed  with  anger  or  annihilated  with  shame 
at  every  disagreeable  incident ;  the  one  makes  him 
act  and  talk  like  a  madman,  the  other  makes  him 
look  like  a  fool.  But  a  man  who  has  du  monde 
seems  not  to  understand  what  he  cannot  or  ought 
not  to  resent.  If  he  makes  a  slip  himself,  he  re- 
covers it  by  his  coolness,  instead  of  plunging  deeper 
by  his  confusion,  like  a  stumbling  horse.  He  is 
firm,  but  gentle ;  and  practises  that  most  excellent 
maxim,  suaviter  in  modo,  fortiter  in  re.  The  other 
is  the  volto  sciolto  e  pensieri  stretti}  People  unused 
to  the  world  have  babbling  countenances,  and  are 
unskilful  enough  to  show  what  they  have  sense 
enough  not  to  tell.  In  the  course  of  the  world,  a 
man  must  very  often  put  on  an  easy,  frank  counte- 
1  An  open  countenance  and  a  reserved  mind. 


224    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

nance  upon  very  disagreeable  occasions ;  he  must 
seem  pleased  when  he  is  very  much  otherwise  ;  he 
must  be  able  to  accost  and  receive  with  smiles  those 
whom  he  would  much  rather  meet  with  swords.  In 
Courts  he  must  not  turn  himself  inside  out.  All 
this  may,  nay,  must  be  done,  without  falsehood  and 
treachery  ;  for  it  must  go  no  further  than  politeness 
and  manners,  and  must  stop  short  of  assurances 
and  professions  of  simulated  friendship.  Good 
manners  to  those  one  does  not  love,  are  no  more 
a  breach  of  truth  than  "  your  humble  servant "  at 
the  bottom  of  a  challenge  is ;  they  are  universally 
agreed  upon  and  understood  to  be  things  of  course. 
They  are  necessary  guards  of  the  decency  and 
peace  of  society  \  they  must  only  act  defensively,  and 
then  not  with  arms  poisoned  with  perfidy.  Truth, 
but  not  the  whole  truth,  must  be  the  invariable 
principle  of  every  man  who  has  either  religion, 
honor,  or  prudence.  Those  who  violate  it  may  be 
cunning,  but  they  are  not  able.  Lies  and  perfidy 
are  the  refuge  of  fools  and  cowards.     Adieu  ! 


LIX. 

ON   MILITARY  MEN. —SMALL  CHANGE. 

London,  Sept.  19,  1752. 

Your  attending  the  parades  has  also  another  good 
effect,  —  which  is  that  it  brings  you  of  course  ac- 
quainted with  the  officers,  who,  when  of  a  certain 
rank  and  service,  are  generally  very  polite,  well  bred 


TO  HIS  SON.  225 

people,  et  du  bon  ton.  They  have  commonly  seen 
a  great  deal  of  the  world  and  of  Courts,  —  and  noth- 
ing else  can  form  a  gentleman,  let  people  say  what 
they  will  of  sense  and  learning,  with  both  which  a 
man  may  contrive  to  be  a  very  disagreeable  com- 
panion. I  dare  say  there  are  very  few  captains  of 
foot  who  are  not  much  better  company  than  ever 
Descartes  or  Sir  Isaac  Newton  were.  I  honor  and 
respect  such  superior  geniuses ;  but  I  desire  to  con- 
verse with  people  of  this  world,  who  bring  into 
company  their  share  at  least  of  cheerfulness,  good 
breeding,  and  knowledge  of  mankind.  In  common 
life,  one  much  oftener  wants  small  money  and 
silver  than  gold.  Give  me  a  man  who  has  ready 
cash  about  him  for  present  expenses,  —  sixpences, 
shillings,  half-crowns,  and  crowns,  which  circulate 
easily ;  but  a  man  who  has  only  an  ingot  of  gold 
about  him  is  much  above  common  purposes,  and 
his  riches  are  not  handy  nor  convenient.  Have  as 
much  gold  as  you  please  in  one  pocket,  but  take 
care  always  to  keep  change  in  the  other ;  for  you 
will  much  oftener  have  occasion  for  a  shilling  than 
for  a  guinea. 


15 


226    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


LX. 


ADAPTATION  OF   MANNERS  TO  PERSONS,  PLACES. 
AND  TIMES. 


London,  Sept.  22,  1752. 


The  reception  which  you  have  met  with  at  Han- 
over I  look  upon  as  an  omen  of  your  being  well 
received  everywhere  else ;  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
it  was  the  place  that  I  distrusted  the  most  in  that 
particular.  But  there  is  a  certain  conduct,  there 
are  certaines  manieres  that  will  and  must  get  the 
better  of  all  difficulties  of  that  kind  ;  it  is  to  acquire 
them  that  you  still  continue  abroad,  and  go  from 
Court  to  Court ;  they  are  personal,  local,  and  tem- 
poral; they  are  modes  which  vary  and  owe  their 
existence  to  accidents,  whim,  and  humor.  All  the 
sense  and  reason  in  the  world  would  never  point 
them  out ;  nothing  but  experience,  observation,  and 
what  is  called  knowledge  of  the  world,  can  possibly 
teach  them.  For  example,  it  is  respectful  to  bow 
to  the  King  of  England ;  it  is  disrespectful  to  bow 
to  the  King  of  France  ;  it  is  the  rule  to  courtesy  to 
the  Emperor;  and  the  prostration  of  the  whole  body 
is  required  by  eastern  monarchs.  These  are  estab- 
lished ceremonies,  and  must  be  complied  with ;  but 
why  they  were  established,  I  defy  sense  and  reason 
to  tell  us.  It  is  the  same  among  all  ranks,  where 
certain  customs  are  received  and  must  necessarily 
be  complied  with,  though  by  no  means  the  result  of 
sense  and  reason.     As  for  instance,  the  very  absurd 


TO  HIS  SON.  227 

though  almost  universal  custom  of  drinking  people's 
healths.  Can  there  be  anything  in  the  world  less 
relative  to  any  other  man's  health  than  my  drinking 
a  glass  of  wine?  Common  sense  certainly  never 
pointed  it  out :  but  yet  common  sense  tells  me  I 
must  conform  to  it.  Good  sense  bids  one  be  civil 
and  endeavor  to  please,  though  nothing  but  expe- 
rience and  observation  can  teach  one  the  means, 
properly  adapted  to  time,  place,  and  persons.  This 
knowledge  is  the  true  object  of  a  gentleman's  trav- 
elling, if  he  travels  as  he  ought  to  do.  By  frequent- 
ing good  company  in  every  country,  he  himself 
becomes  of  every  country  ;  he  is  no  longer  an  Eng- 
lishman, a  Frenchman,  or  an  Italian,  but  he  is  a 
European ;  he  adopts,  respectively,  the  best  man- 
ners of  every  country,  and  is  a  Frenchman  at  Paris, 
an  Italian  at  Rome,  an  Englishman  at  London. 

This  advantage,  I  must  confess,  very  seldom 
accrues  to  my  countrymen  from  their  travelling, 
as  they  have  neither  the  desire  nor  the  means  of 
getting  into  good  company  abroad  :  for,  in  the  first 
place,  they  are  confoundedly  bashful,  and  in  the 
next  place,  they  either  speak  no  foreign  language 
at  all,  or,  if  they  do,  it  is  barbarously.  You  possess 
all  the  advantages  that  they  want ;  you  know  the 
languages  in  perfection,  and  have  constantly  kept 
the  best  company  in  the  places  where  you  have 
been ;  so  that  you  ought  to  be  a  European.  Your 
canvas  is  solid  and  strong,  your  outlines  are  good ; 
but  remember  that  you  still  want  the  beautiful  color- 
ing of  Titian  and  the  delicate  graceful  touches  of 
Guido.     Now  is  your   time  to  get  them.     There  is 


228     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

in  all  good  company  a  fashionable  air,  countenance, 
manner,  and  phraseology,  which  can  only  be  ac- 
quired by  being  in  good  company,  and  very  atten- 
tive to  all  that  passes  there.  When  you  dine  or 
sup  at  any  well-bred  man's  house,  observe  carefiilly 
how  he  does  the  honors  of  his  table  to  the  different 
guests.  Attend  to  the  compliments  of  congratula- 
tion or  condolence  that  you  hear  a  well-bred  man 
make  to  his  superiors,  to  his  equals,  and  to  his 
inferiors ;  watch  even  his  countenance  and  his  tone 
of  voice,  for  they  all  conspire  in  the  main  point  of 
pleasing.  There  is  a  certain  distinguishing  diction 
of  a  man  of  fashion ;  he  will  not  content  himself 
with  saying,  like  John  Trott,  to  a  new  married  man, 
"  Sir,  I  wish  you  much  joy,"  or  to  a  man  who  lost  his 
son,  "  Sir,  I  am  sorry  for  your  loss,"  and  both  with 
a  countenance  equally  unmoved ;  but  he  will  say  in 
effect  the  same  thing,  in  a  more  elegant  and  less 
trivial  manner,  and  with  a  countenance  adapted  to 
the  occasion.  He  will  advance  with  warmth,  viva- 
city, and  a  cheerful  countenance  to  the  new  married 
man,  and  embracing  him,  perhaps  say  to  him,  "  If 
you  do  justice  to  my  attachment  to  you,  you  will 
judge  of  the  joy  that  I  feel  upon  this  occasion 
better  than  I  can  express  it,"  etc.  To  the  other 
in  affliction,  he  will  advance  slowly,  with  a  grave 
composure  of  countenance,  in  a  more  deliberate 
manner,  and  with  a  lower  voice,  perhaps  say,  "  I 
hope  you  do  me  the  justice  to  be  convinced  that 
I  feel  whatever  you  feel,  and  shall  ever  be  affected 
where  you  are  concerned." 

Your  abordy  I  must  tell  you  was  too  cold  and 


TO  HIS  SON.  229 

uniform ;  I  hope  it  is  now  mended.  It  should  be 
respectfully  open  and  cheerful  with  your  superiors, 
warm  and  animated  with  your  equals,  hearty  and 
free  with  your  inferiors.  There  is  a  fashionable 
kind  of  small  talk,  which  you  should  get,  which, 
trifling  as  it  is,  is  of*  use  in  mixed  companies  and 
at  table,  especially  in  your  foreign  department, 
where  it  keeps  off  certain  serious  subjects  that 
might  create  disputes,  or  at  least  coldness  for  a 
time.  Upon  such  occasions  it  is  not  amiss  to  know 
how  to  parler  cuisine,  and  to  be  able  to  dissert  upon 
the  growth  and  flavor  of  wines.  These,  it  is  true, 
are  very  little  things;  but  they  are  little  things  that 
occur  very  often,  and  therefore  should  be  said  avec 
gentillesse  et  grace.  I  am  sure  they  must  fall  often 
in  your  way ;  pray  take  care  to  catch  them.  There 
is  a  certain  language  of  conversation,  a  fashionable 
diction,  of  which  every  gentleman  ought  to  be  per- 
fectly master,  in  whatever  language  he  speaks. 
The  French  attend  to  it  carefully,  and  with  great 
reason ;  and  their  language,  which  is  a  language  of 
phrases,  helps  them  out  exceedingly.  That  deli- 
cacy of  diction  is  characteristical  of  a  man  of 
fashion  and  good  company. 

I  could  write  folios  upon  this  subject  and  not 
exhaust  it;  but  I  think  and  hope  that  to  you  I 
need  not.  You  have  heard  and  seen  enough  to  be 
convinced  of  the  truth  and  importance  of  what  I 
have  been  so  long  inculcating  into  you  upon  these 
points  How  happy  am  I,  and  how  happy  are  you, 
my  dear  child,  that  these  Titian  tints  and  Guido 
graces  are  all  that  you  want  to  complete  my  hopes 


230    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  your  own  character  !  But  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  what  a  drawback  would  it  be  to  that  happiness, 
if  you  should  never  acquire  them  !  I  remember, 
when  I  was  of  your  age,  though  1  had  not  had  near 
so  good  an  education  as  you  have  or  seen  a  quarter 
so  much  of  the  world,  I  observed  those  masterly 
touches  and  irresistible  graces  in  others,  and  saw 
the  necessity  of  acquiring  them  myself;  but  then 
an  awkward  mauvaise  honte,  of  which  I  had  brought 
a  great  deal  with  me  from  Cambridge,  made  me 
ashamed  to  attempt  it,  especially  if  any  of  my  coun- 
trymen and  particular  acquaintance  were  by.  This 
was  extremely  absurd  in  me  ;  for,  without  attempt- 
ing, I  could  never  succeed.  But  at  last,  insensibly, 
by  frequenting  a  great  deal  of  good  company,  and 
imitating  those  whom  I  saw  that  everybody  liked, 
I  formed  myself,  tant  Men  que  mal.  For  God's 
sake,  let  this  last  fine  varnish,  so  necessary  to  give 
lustre  to  the  whole  piece,  be  the  sole  and  single 
object  now  of  your  utmost  attention.  Berlin  may 
contribute  a  great  deal  to  it  if  you  please  ;  there 
are  all  the  ingredients   that  compose  it. 


LXI. 

VOLTAIRE,  HOMER,  VIRGIL,   MILTON,   AND  TASSO.— 
CHARLES   XII.   OF   SWEDEN    NOT   A   HERO. 

Bath,  October  4,  1752. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  I   consider  you  now  as  at 
the  court  of  Augustus,^  where,  if  ever  the  desire  of 
1  The  court  of  Frederick  II.  of  Prussia. 


TO  HIS  SON.  231 

pleasing  animated  you,  it  must  make  you  exert  all 
the  means  of  doing  it.  You  will  see  there,  full  as 
well,  I  dare  say,  as  Horace  did  at  Rome,  how 
States  are  defended  by  arms,  adorned  by  manners, 
and  improved  by  laws.  Nay,  you  have  an  Horace 
there,  as  well  as  an  Augustus ;  I  need  not  name 
Voltaire,  qui  nil  molitur  inepte,  as  Horace  himself 
said  of  another  poet.  I  have  lately  read  over  all 
his  works  that  are  published,  though  I  had  read 
them  more  than  once  before.  I  was  induced  to 
this  by  his  "  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV.,"  which  I  have  yet 
read  but  four  times.  In  reading  over  all  his  works, 
with  more  attention  I  suppose  than  before,  my 
former  admiration  of  him  is,  I  own,  turned  into 
astonishment.  There  is  no  one  kind  of  writing  in 
which  he  has  not  excelled.  You  are  so  severe  a 
classic  that  I  question  whether  you  will  allow  me  to 
call  his  "Henriade  "  an  epic  poem,  for  want  of  the 
proper  number  of  gods,  devils,  witches,  and  other 
absurdities  requisite  for  the  machinery ;  which  ma- 
chinery is,  it  seems,  necessary  to  constitute  the 
Epopee.  But  whether  you  do  or  not,  I  will  declare 
(though  possibly  to  my  own  shame)  that  I  never 
read  any  epic  poem  with  near  so  much  pleasure.  I 
am  grown  old,  and  have  possibly  lost  a  great  deal  of 
that  fire  which  formerly  made  me  love  fire  in  others 
at  any  rate,  and  however  attended  with  smoke ;  but 
now  I  must  have  all  sense,  and  cannot  for  the  sake 
of  five  righteous  lines  forgive  a  thousand  absurd  ones. 
In  this  disposition  of  mind,  judge  whether  I  can 
read  all  Homer  through  tout  de  suite.  I  admire  his 
beauties,  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  when  he  slumbers 


232     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

I  sleep.  Virgil,  I  confess,  is  all  sense,  and  therefore 
I  like  him  better  than  his  model ;  but  he  is  often 
languid,  especially  in  his  five  or  six  last  books,  dur- 
ing which  I  am  obliged  to  take  a  good  deal  of  snuff. 
Besides,  I  profess  myself  an  ally  of  Tumus's  against 
the  pious  -(Eneas,  who  like  many  soi  disant  pious 
people,  does  the  most  flagrant  injustice  and  violence 
in  order  to  execute  what  they  impudently  call  the 
will  of  Heaven.  But  what  will  you  say  when  I  tell 
you  truly  that  I  cannot  possibly  read  our  country- 
man Milton  through?  I  acknowledge  him  to 
have  some  most  sublime  passages,  some  prodigious 
flashes  of  light ;  but  then  you  must  acknowledge 
that  light  is  often  followed  by  darkness  visible,  to 
use  his  own  expression.  Besides,  not  having  the 
honor  to  be  acquainted  with  any  of  the  parties  in 
his  poem,  except  the  man  and  the  woman,  the 
characters  and  speeches  of  a  dozen  or  two  of  angels 
and  of  as  many  devils  are  as  much  above  my  reach 
as  my  entertainment.  Keep  this  secret  for  me  ;  for 
if  it  should  be  known,  I  should  be  abused  by  every 
tasteless  pedant  and  every  solid  divine  in  England. 
Whatever  I  have  said  to  the  disadvantage  of 
these  three  poems  holds  much  stronger  against 
Tasso's  "  Gierusalemme  :  "  it  is  true  he  has  very  fine 
and  glaring  rays  of  poetry ;  but  then  they  are  only 
meteors,  they  dazzle,  then  disappear,  and  are  suc- 
ceeded by  false  thoughts,  poor  concetti,  and  absurd 
impossibilities.  Witness  the  Fish  and  the  Parrot; 
extravagancies  unworthy  of  an  heroic  poem,  and 
would  much  better  have  become  Ariosto,  who 
professes  le  coglionerie. 


TO  HIS  SON.  233 

I  have  never  read  the  Lusiad  of  Camoens,  except  in 
a  prose  translation,  consequently  I  have  never  read  it 
at  all,  so  shall  say  nothing  of  it ;  but  the  "  Henriade  " 
is  all  sense  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  often 
adorned  by  the  justest  and  liveliest  reflections, 
the  most  beautiful  descriptions,  the  noblest  images, 
and  the  sublimest  sentiments,  —  not  to  mention  the 
harmony  of  the  verse,  in  which  Voltaire  undoubtedly 
exceeds  all  the  French  poets.  Should  you  insist 
upon  an  exception  in  favor  of  Racine,  I  must  insist 
on  my  part  that  he  at  least  equals  him.  What  hero 
ever  interested  more  than  Henry  the  Fourth,  who 
according  to  the  rules  of  epic  poetry,  carries  on  one 
great  and  long  action,  and  succeeds  in  it  at  last? 
What  descriptions  ever  excited  more  horror  than 
those,  first  of  the  massacre,  and  then  of  the  famine 
at  Paris?  Was  love  ever  painted  with  more  truth 
and  7norhidezza  than  in  the  ninth  book?  Not 
better  in  my  mind,  even  in  the  fourth  of  Virgil. 
Upon  the  whole,  with  all  your  classical  rigor,  if  you 
will  but  suppose  St.  Louis  a  god,  a  devil,  or  a  witch, 
and  that  he  appears  in  person  and  not  in  a  dream, 
the  "  Henriade  "  will  be  an  epic  poem,  according  to 
the  strictest  statute  laws  of  the  Epopee ;  but  in  my 
court  of  equity  it  is  one  as  it  is. 

I  could  expatiate  as  much  upon  all  his  different 
works  but  that  I  should  exceed  the  bounds  of  a 
letter,  and  run  into  a  dissertation.  How  delightful  is 
his  history  of  that  northern  brute,  the  King  of  Swe- 
den !  ^  —  for  I  cannot  call  him  a  man  ;  and  I  should 

1  Charles  XII.  Voltaire's  life  of  that  king  first  appeared 
in  1731. 


234    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

be  sorry  to  have  him  pass  for  a  hero,  out  of  regard 
to  those  true  heroes,  such  as  Julius  Caesar,  Titus, 
Trajan,  and  the  present  King  of  Prussia,  who  culti- 
vated and  encouraged  arts  and  sciences ;  whose 
animal  courage-  was  accompanied  by  the  tender  and 
social  sentiments  of  humanity  j  and  who  had  more 
pleasure  in  improving  than  in  destroying  their  fellow- 
creatures.  What  can  be  more  touching  or  more 
interesting,  what  more  nobly  thought  or  more 
happily  expressed  than  all  his  dramatic  pieces? 
What  can  be  more  clear  and  rational  than  all  his 
philosophical  letters ;  and  what  ever  was  so  graceful 
and  gentle  as  all  his  little  poetical  trifles?  You  are 
fortunately  a  port^e  of  verifying  by  your  knowledge 
of  the  man  all  that  I  have  said  of  his  works. 


LXII. 

A  WORTHY,   TIRESOME  MAN.  —  MANNERS  ADD  LUSTRE 
TO   LEARNING. 

London,  May  27,  o.  s.  1753. 
My  DEAR  Friend,  —  I  have  this  day  been  tired, 
jaded,  nay,  tormented,  by  the  company  of  a  most 
worthy,  sensible,  and  learned  man,  a  near  relation 
of  mine,  who  dined  and  passed  the  evening  with 
me.  This  seems  a  paradox  but  is  a  plain  truth  ; 
he  has  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  no  manners,  no 
address.  Far  from  talking  without  book,  as  is  com- 
monly said  of  people  who  talk  sillily,  he  only  talks 
by   book,  —  which  in  general  conversation   is   ten 


TO  HIS  SON.  235 

times  worse.  He  has  formed  in  his  own  closet 
from  books  certain  systems  of  everything,  argues 
tenaciously  upon  those  principles,  and  is  both  sur- 
prised and  angry  at  whatever  deviates  from  them. 
His  theories  are  good  but  unfortunately  are  all 
impracticable.  Why?  because  he  has  only  read 
and  not  conversed.  He  is  acquainted  with  books 
and  an  absolute  stranger  to  men.  Laboring  with 
his  matter  he  is  delivered  of  it  with  pangs ;  he 
hesitates,  stops  in  his  utterance,  and  always  ex- 
presses himself  inelegantly.  His  actions  are  all 
ungraceful ;  so  that  with  all  his  merit  and  knowl- 
edge, I  would  rather  converse  six  hours  with  the 
most  frivolous  tittle-tattle  woman  who  knew  some- 
thing of  the  world  than  with  him.  The  preposterous 
notions  of  a  systematical  man  who  does  not  know 
the  world  tire  the  patience  of  a  man  who  does.  It 
would  be  endless  to  correct  his  mistakes,  nor  would 
he  take  it  kindly,  for  he  has  considered  everything 
deliberately  and  is  very  sure  that  he  is  in  the  right. 
Impropriety  is  a  characteristic,  and  a  never-failing 
one,  of  these  people.  Regardless,  because  ignorant, 
of  customs  and  manners,  they  violate  them  every 
moment.  They  often  shock  though  they  never  mean 
to  offend,  never  attending  either  to  the  general 
character  or  the  particular  distinguishing  circum- 
stances of  the  people  to  whom  or  before  whom  they 
talk ;  whereas  the  knowledge  of  the  world  teaches 
one  that  the  very  same  things  which  are  exceedingly 
right  and  proper  in  one  company,  time,  and  place 
are  exceedingly  absurd  in  others.  In  short,  a  man 
who  has  great  knowledge  from  experience  and  ob- 


236    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

servation  of  the  character,  customs,  and  manners  of 
mankind  is  a  being  as  different  from  and  as  superior 
to  a  man  of  mere  book  and  systematical  knowledge 
as  a  well-managed  horse  is  to  an  ass.  Study  there- 
fore, cultivate,  and  frequent  men  and  women,  —  not 
only  in  their  outward,  and  consequently  guarded, 
but  in  theii  interior,  domestic,  and  consequently  less 
disguised  characters  and  manners.  Take  your  no- 
tions of  things  as  by  observation  and  experience 
you  find  they  really  are,  and  not  as  you  read  that 
they  are  or  should  be,  for  they  never  are  quite  what 
they  should  be.  For  this  purpose  do  not  content 
yourself  with  general  and  common  acquaintance,  but 
wherever  you  can,  establish  yourself  with  a  kind  of 
domestic  familiarity  in  good  houses.  For  instance, 
go  again  to  Orli  for  two  or  three  days  and  so  at  two 
or  three  reprises.  Go  and  stay  two  or  three  days 
at  a  time  at  Versailles  and  improve  and  extend  the 
acquaintance  you  have  there.  Be  at  home  at  St. 
Cloud,  and  whenever  any  private  person  of  fashion 
invites  you  to  pass  a  few  days  at  his  country-house 
accept  of  the  invitation.  This  will  necessarily  give 
you  a  versatility  of  mind  and  a  facility  to  adopt 
various  manners  and  customs  ;  for  everybody  desires 
to  please  those  in  whose  house  they  are,  and  people 
are  only  to  be  pleased  in  their  o^^^l  way.  Nothing 
is  more  engaging  than  a  cheerful  and  easy  con- 
formity to  people's  particular  manners,  habits,  and 
even  weaknesses ;  nothing  (to  use  a  vulgar  expres- 
sion) should  come  amiss  to  a  young  fellow.  He 
should  be  for  good  purposes  what  x\lcibiades  was 
commonly  for  bad  ones,  —  a  Proteus  assuming  with 


TO  HIS  SON.  237 

ease  and  wearing  with  cheerfulness  any  shape. 
Heat,  cold,  luxury,  abstinence,  gravity,  gayety,  cere- 
mony, easiness,  learning,  trifling,  business,  and  pleas- 
ure are  modes  which  he  should  be  able  to  take,  lay 
aside,  or  change  occasionally  with  as  much  ease  as 
he  would  take  or  lay  aside  his  hat.  All  this  is  only 
to  be  acquired  by  use  and  knowledge  of  the  world, 
by  keeping  a  great  deal  of  company,  analyzing  every 
character,  and  insinuating  yourself  into  the  familiarity 
of  various  acquaintance.  A  right,  a  generous  ambi- 
tion to  make  a  figure  in  the  world,  necessarily  gives 
the  desire  of  pleasing ;  the  desire  of  pleasing  points 
out  to  a  great  degree  the  means  of  doing  it ;  and 
the  art  of  pleasing  is  in  truth  the  art  of  rising,  of 
distinguishing  one's  self,  of  making  a  figure  and  a 
fortune  in  the  world.  But  without  pleasing,  without 
the  Graces,  as  I  have  told  you  a  thousand  times,  ogni 
fatica  e  vana.  You  are  now  but  nineteen,  an  age 
at  which  most  of  your  countrymen  are  illiberally 
getting  drunk  in  port  at  the  University.  You  have 
greatly  got  the  start  of  them  in  learning,  and  if  you 
can  equally  get  the  start  of  them  in  the  knowledge 
and  manners  of  the  world,  you  may  be  very  sure  of 
outrunning  them  in  Court  and  Parliament,  as  you  set 
out  so  much  earlier  than  they.  They  generally 
begin  but  to  see  the  world  at  one  and  twenty ;  you 
will  by  that  age  have  seen  all  Europe.  They  set 
out  upon  their  travels  unlicked  cubs,  and  in  their 
travels  they  only  lick  one  another,  for  they  seldom 
go  into  any  other  company.  They  know  nothing 
but  the  English  world,  and  the  worst  part  of  that 
too,  and  generally  very  little  of  any  but  the  English 


238     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

language,  and  they  come  home  at  three  or  four-and- 
twenty  refined  and  pohshed  (as  is  said  in  one  of 
Congreve's  plays)  like  Dutch  skippers  from  a  whale- 
fishing.  The  care  which  has  been  taken  of  you, 
and  to  do  you  justice  the  care  that  you  have  taken 
of  yourself,  has  left  you  at  the  age  of  nineteen  only 
nothing  to  acquire  but  the  knowledge  of  the  world, 
manners,  address,  and  those  exterior  accomplish- 
ments. But  they  are  great  and  necessary  acquisi- 
tions to  those  who  have  sense  enough  to  know  their 
true  value,  and  your  getting  them  before  you  are 
one  and  t^venty  and  before  you  enter  upon  the 
active  and  shining  scene  of  life  will  give  you  such 
an  advantage  over  your  contemporaries  that  they 
cannot  overtake  you  ;  they  must  be  distanced.  You 
may  probably  be  placed  about  a  young  prince  who 
will  probably  be  a  young  king.  There  all  the  various 
arts  of  pleasing,  the  engaging  address,  the  versatility 
of  manners,  the  brillant,  the  Graces,  will  outweigh 
and  yet  outrun  all  solid  knowledge  and  unpolished 
merit.  Oil  yourself  therefore,  and  be  both  supple 
and  shining  for  that  race  if  you  would  be  first,  or 
early  at  the  goal.  Ladies  will  most  probably  too 
have  something  to  say  there,  and  those  who  are 
best  with  them  will  probably  be  best  somewhere  else. 
Labor  this  great  point,  my  dear  child,  indefatigably ; 
attend  to  the  very  smallest  parts,  the  minutest  graces, 
the  most  trifling  circumstances  that  can  possibly 
concur  in  forming  the  shining  character  of  a  com- 
plete gentleman,  un  galant  homme,  un  homme  de 
cour,  a  man  of  business  and  pleasure,  estimk  des 
hommes,  recherche  des  femmes,  aime  de  tout  le  monde. 


TO  HIS  SON.  239 

In  this  view,  observe  the  shining  part  of  every  man 
of  fashion  who  is  Uked  and  esteemed ;  attend  to 
and  imitate  that  particular  accomplishment  for  which 
you  hear  him  chiefly  celebrated  and  distinguished ; 
then  collect  those  various  parts  and  make  yourself  a 
mosaic  of  the  whole.  No  one  body  possesses  every- 
thing, and  almost  everybody  possesses  some  one 
thing  worthy  of  imitation ;  only  choose  your  models 
well,  and  in  order  to  do  so,  choose  by  your  ear  more 
than  by  your  eye.  The  best  model  is  always  that 
which  is  most  universally  allowed  to  be  the  best, 
though  in  strictness  it  may  possibly  not  be  so.  We 
must  take  most  things  as  they  are ;  we  cannot  make 
them  what  we  would  nor  often  what  they  should  be, 
and  where  moral  duties  are  not  concerned,  it  is 
more  prudent  to  follow  than  to  attempt  to  lead. 
Adieu. 


LETTERS    OF    LORD    CHESTERFIELD 
TO    HIS    GODSON. 


LETTERS    OF    LORD    CHESTERFIELD 
TO    HIS    GODSON. 


I. 


DIVERSION  ORDERED,  STUDY  REQUESTED,  IGNORANCE 

despised. 

London,  Nov.  3,  1761. 
May  it  please  your  honor,^  see  how  punctual 
I  am.  I  received  your  letter  but  yesterday,  and  I 
do  myself  the  honor  of  answering  it  to-day.  You 
tell  me  that  when  you  are  at  Monsieur  Robert's,  you 
will  obey  my  orders,  but  that  is  a  very  unlimited 
engagement,  for  how  do  you  know  what  orders  I 
shall  give  you?  As  for  example,  suppose  I  should 
order  you  to  play  and  divert  yourself  heartily,  would 
you  do  it  ?  And  yet  that  will  be  one  of  my  orders. 
It  is  true  I  shall  desire  you  at  your  leisure  hours  to 
mind  your  reading,  your  writing,  and  your  French ; 
but  that  will  be  only  a  request  which  you  may  com- 
ply with  or  not  as  you  please ;  for  no  man  who 
does  not  desire  to  know  and  to  be  esteemed  in  the 
world  should  be  forced  to  it,  for  it  is  punishment 
enough  to  be  a  blockhead  and  to  be  despised  in 
all  companies. 

1  The  boy  was  in  his  seventh  year  at  the  date  of  this 
letter. 


244    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

I  fancy  you  have  a  good  memory ;  and  from  time 
to  time,  young  as  it  is,  I  shall  put  it  to  the  trial ; 
for  whatever  you  get  by  heart  at  this  age  you 
will  remember  as  long  as  you  live,  and  therefore  I 
send  you  these  fine  verses  of  Mr.  Dryden,  and  give 
you  a  whole  month  to  get  them  by  heart. 

"  When  I  consider  life,  't  is  all  a  cheat ; 
Yet  fool'd  with  hope,  men  favor  the  deceit. 
Trust  on,  and  think  to-morrow  will  repay. 
To-morrow's  falser  than  the  former  day; 
Lies  worse,  and  when  it  bids  us  most  be  blest 
With  some  new  hope,  cuts  off  what  we  possest. 
Fond  cozenage  this  ;  who  'd  live  past  years  again  ? 
Yet  all  hope  pleasure  from  what  still  remain ; 
And  from  the  dregs  of  life  think  to  receive 
What  the  first  sprightly  runnings  could  not  give. 
I  'm  tired  of  seeking  for  this  chymick  gold, 
Which  fools  us  young,  and  beggars  us  when  old. 


II. 


DUTY  TO  GOD,  AND  DUTY  TO  MAN. 

Aug.  2  [1762]. 
Dear  Phil,  —  Though  I  generally  write  to  you 
upon  those  subjects  which  you  are  now  chiefly 
employed  in,  such  as  history,'  geography,  and 
French,  yet  I  must  from  time  to  time  remind  you 
of  two  much  more  important  duties  which  I  hope 
you  will  never  forget  nor  neglect.  I  mean  your 
duty  to  God  and  your  duty  to  man.  God  has 
been  so  good  as  to  write  in  all  our  hearts  the  duty 
that  he  expects  from  us,  which  is  adoration  and 
thanksgiving,  and  doing  all  the  good  we  can  to  our 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  245 

fellow  creatures.  Our  conscience,  if  we  will  but 
consult  and  attend  to  it,  never  fails  to  remind  us 
of  those  duties.  I  dare  say  that  you  feel  an  inward 
pleasure  when  you  have  learned  your  book  well  and 
have  been  a  good  boy,  as  on  the  other  hand  I  am 
sure  you  feel  an  inward  uneasiness  when  you  have 
not  done  so.  This  is  called  "  conscience,"  which  I 
hope  you  will  always  consult  and  follow.  You  owe 
all  the  advantages  you  enjoy  to  God,  who  can  and 
who  probably  will  take  them  away  whenever  you 
are  ungrateful  to  him,  for  he  has  justice  as  well  as 
mercy.  Get  by  heart  the  four  following  and  ex- 
cellent lines  of  Voltaire,  and  retain  them  in  your 
mind  as  long  as  you  live  :  — 

"  Dieu  nous  donna  lesbiens,  il  veut  qu'on  en  jouisse  ; 
Mais  n'oublies  jamais  leur  cause  et  leur  Auteur  ; 
Et  quand  vous  goutez  sa  Divine  faveur, 
O  Mortels,  gardez  vous  d'oublier  sa  justice." 

Your  duty  to  man  is  very  short  and  clear,  —  it  is 
only  to  do  to  him  whatever  you  would  be  willing 
that  he  should  do  to  you.  And  remember  in  all 
the  business  of  your  life  to  ask  your  conscience 
this  question :  "  Should  I  be  willing  that  this  should 
be  done  to  me  ?  '*  If  your  conscience,  which  will 
always  tell  you  truth,  answers  NO,  do  not  do  that 
thing.  Observe  these  rules,  and  you  will  be  happy 
in  this  world  and  still  happier  in  the  next.  Bon 
soir,  mon  petit  bout  d'homme. 

Chesterfield. 


246    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


III. 


ROUGH    MANNERS:    JOHN    TROTT,    THE    TWO-LEGGED 
BEAR. 

Black-heath,  Aug.  18  [1762]. 
Dear  Phil,  —  I  cannot  enough  inculcate  into 
you  the  absolute  necessity  and  infinite  advantages 
of  pleasing ;  that  is,  d'etre  aimable  ;  and  it  is  so  easy 
to  be  so  that  I  am  surprised  at  the  folly  or  stupidity 
of  those  who  neglect  it.  The  first  great  step  to- 
wards pleasing  is  to  desire  to  please,  and  whoever 
really  desires  it  will  please  to  a  certain  degree. 
La  douceur  et  la  politesse  dans  I'air  et  dans  les 
manieres  plairont  toujours.  I  am  very  sorry  to  tell 
you  that  you  have  not  Pair  de  la  politesse ;  for  you 
have  got  an  odious  trick  of  not  looking  people  in 
the  face  who  speak  to  you,  or  whom  you  speak  to. 
This  is  a  most  shocking  trick,  and  implies  guilt, 
fear,  or  inattention ;  and  you  must  absolutely  be 
cured  of  it  or  nobody  will  love  you.  You  know 
what  stress  both  your  father  and  I  lay  upon  it,  and 
we  shall  neither  of  us  love  you  till  you  are  broke 
of  it.  I  am  sure  you  would  not  be  called  John 
Trott,  and  both  I  and  others  will  call  you  so  if  you 
are  not  more  attentive  and  polite.  I  believe  you 
do  not  know  who  this  same  John  Trott  is.  He  is 
a  character  in  a  play  of  a  brutal,  bearish  English- 
man ;  for  there  are  English  two-legged  bears,  and 
but  too  many  of  them.  He  is  rude,  inattentive, 
and  rough,  seldom  bows  to  people,  and  never  looks 
them  in  the  face.     After  this  description   of  him. 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  247 

tell  me  which  would  you  choose  to  be  called,  John 
Trott  or  a  well-bred  gentleman.  C'est  a  dire  vou- 
driez-vous  ^tre  aimable,  ou  brutal.  II  n'y  a  point 
de  milieu ;  il  faut  opter  et  dtre  I'un  ou  I'autre.  I 
know  which  you  will  choose,  —  I  am  sure  you  will 
desire  and  endeavor  to  be  aimable. 


TV. 

THE  WELL-BRED  GENTLEMAN. 

Monday  Morning  [1762]. 
Dear  Phil,  —  You  say  that  you  will  not  be  John 
Trott,  and  you  are  in  the  right  of  it,  for  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  call  you  John  Trott,  and  should  not 
love  you  half  so  well  as  I  do,  if  you  deserved  that 
name.  The  lowest  and  the  poorest  people  in  the 
world  expect  good  breeding  from  a  gentleman,  and 
they  have  a  right  to  it,  for  they  are  by  nature  your 
equals,  and  are  no  otherwise  your  inferiors  than  by 
their  education  and  their  fortune.  Therefore  when- 
ever you  speak  to  people  who  are  no  otherwise  your 
inferiors  than  by  these  circumstances,  you  must  re- 
member to  look  them  in  the  face,  and  to  speak  to 
them  with  great  humanity  and  douceur,  or  else  they 
will  think  you  proud  and  hate  you.  I  am  sure  you 
would  rather  be  loved  than  either  hated  or  laughed 
at,  and  yet  I  can  assure  [you]  that  you  will  be  either 
hated  or  laughed  at  if  you  do  not  make  yourself  aim- 
able.  You  will  ask  me  perhaps  what  you  must  do  to 
be  aimable.     Do  but  resolve  to  be  so  and  the  busi- 


248     LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

ness  is  almost  done.  Ayez  seulement  de  la  poli- 
tesse,  de  la  douceur,  et  des  attentions,  et  je  vous 
reponds  que  vous  serez  aime,  et  d'autant  plus,  que 
les  Anglois  ne  sont  pas  gen^ralement  aimables. 
Among  attentions,  one  of  the  most  material  ones  is 
to  look  people  in  the  face  when  they  speak  to  you 
or  when  you  speak  to  them,  and  this  I  insist  upon 
your  doing,  or  upon  my  word  I  shall  be  very  angry. 
Another  thing  I  charge  you  always  to  do ;  which  is, 
when  you  come  into  a  room,  or  go  out  of  it,  to 
make  a  bow  to  the  company.  All  this  I  dare  say 
you  will  do,  because  I  am  sure  that  you  would  rather 
be  called  a  well-bred  gentleman  than  John  Trott. 
I  therefore  send  you  this  pocket-book,  and  wll  one 
day  this  week  send  for  you  to  dine  with  me  at 
Black-heath,  before  the  days  grow  too  short.  Adieu  ; 
soyez  honnete  homme. 

Chesterfield. 


V. 


SOME    RULES    FOR    THE    BEHAVIOR  OF  A  WELL-BRED 
GENTLEMAN. 

[1762.] 

Dear  Phil,  —  As  I  kno\y  that  you  desire  to  be  a 
well-bred  gentleman  and  not  a  two-legged  bear,  and 
to  be  beloved  instead  of  being  hated  or  laughed  at, 
I  send  you  some  general  rules  for  your  behavior, 
which  will  make  you  not  only  be  loved  but  admired. 
You  must  have  great  attention  to  everything  that 
passes  where  you  are,  in  order  to  do  what  will  be 
most  agreeable  to  the  company. 


TO  HIS   GODSON.  249 

Whoever  you  speak  to,  or  whoever  speaks  to  you, 
you  must  be  sure  to  look  them  full  in  the  face. 
For  it  is  not  only  ill  bred,  but  brutal,  either  to  look 
upon  the  ground  or  to  have  your  eyes  wandering 
about  the  room,  when  people  are  speaking  to  you  or 
you  are  speaking  to  them.  When  people  speak  to 
you,  though  they  do  not  directly  ask  you  a  question 
you  must  give  them  an  answer,  and  not  let  them 
think  that  you  are  deaf  or  that  you  do  not  care 
what  they  say.  For  example,  if  a  person  says  to  you 
"  This  [is]  a  very  hot  day,"  you  must  say,  "yes  "  or 
"  No,  sir." 

You  must  call  every  gentleman  "  sir "  or  "  my 
lord,"  and  every  woman  "  madam."  .  .  . 

When  you  are  at  dinner  you  must  sit  upright  in 
your  chair,  and  not  loll.  And  when  anybody  offers 
to  help  you  to  anything,  if  you  will  have  it  you  must 
say,  "  Yes,  if  you  will  be  so  good,"  or,  "  I  am  ashamed 
to  give  you  so  much  trouble."  If  you  will  not  have 
it  you  must  say,  "  No,  thank  you,"  or,  "  I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  you."  You  must  drink  first  to  the 
mistress  of  the  house  and  next  to  the  master  of  it. 

When  you  first  come  into  a  room  you  must  not 
fail  to  make  a  bow  to  the  company,  and  also  when 
you  go  out  of  it. 

You  must  never  look  sullen  or  pouting,  but  have  a 
cheerful,  easy  countenance. 

Remember  that  there  is  no  one  thing  so  neces- 
sary for  a  gentleman  as  to  be  perfectly  civil  and 
well  bred.  Nobody  was  ever  loved  that  was  not 
well  bred ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  neither  your 
papa  nor  I  shall  love  you  if  you  are  not  well  bred. 


250    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  I  am  sure  you  desire  that  we  should  both  love 
you,  as  we  do  now,  because  you  are  a  very  good 
boy.     And  so  God  bless  you. 


VI. 


THE    ART  OF   PLEASING  :  SACRIFICE  TO  THE  GRACES. 

A  Bath,  12  Decern.,  1763. 
Vous  dites  que  vous  souhaittez  de  briller  dans  le 
monde,  et  vous  avez  raison,  car  on  n'y  est  point 
placd  simplement  pour  boire  et  pour  manger.  Vous 
qui  etes  n6  avec  du  bon  sens  natural,  il  vous  est 
ais6  de  vous  distinguer  dans  le  monde,  si  vous  le 
voulez  veritablement,  mais  il  ne  faut  pas  perdre  du 
temps,  il  faut  commencer  a  votre  age,  ou  bien  vous 
n'y  parviendrez  jamais.  II  n'y  a  que  deux  choses  a 
faire  pour  cela,  et  qui  dependent  absolument  de 
vous,  qui  sont  d'etre  tres  poll  et  tres  savant.  Si 
vous  dtes  savant,  mais  sans  politesse  et  sans  mani- 
eres,  vous  pourrez  peut-etre,  etre  estim^,  mais 
jamais  etre  aim6.  De  I'autre  cote  si  vous  etes  poli, 
mais  ignorant,  on  ne  vous  haira  pas  a  la  verity,  mais 
on  vous  meprisera,  et  on  se  mocquera  de  vous.  II 
faut  done  necessairement  vous  rendre  en  meme 
temps  aimable  et  estimable,  si  vous  voulez  briller,  — 
aimable  par  vos  manieres  douces  et  polies,  par  vos 
attentions,  par  un  air  prevenant,  par  les  Graces; 
et  estimable  par  votre  savoir.  Le  grand  art,  et  le 
plus  necessaire  de  tous,  c'est  /'a;-/  de  plaire.  Vou- 
loir  tout  de  bon  plaire,  est  bien  la  moitid  du  chemin 
pour  y  parvenir,  le  reste  depend  de  I'observ'ation  et 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  25  I 

de  I'usage  du  monde,  dont  je  vous  parlerai  fort 
souvent  dans  la  suite ;  mais  en  attendant,  cherchez 
a  plaire  autant  que  vous  le  pourrez,  et  faites  vos 
petites  remarques  de  tout  ce  qui  vous  plait  ou  vous 
deplait  dans  les  autres,  et  comptez  qu'a  peu  pres 
les  memes  choses  en  vous  plairont  ou  deplairont  aux 
autres.  Pour  les  moyens  de  plaire,  ils  sont  infinis, 
mais  je  vous  les  developperai  peu  a  peu  selon  que 
votre  ige  le  permettra,  a  present  je  me  contenterai, 
si  vous  prenez  une  forte  resolution  de  plaire  autant 
que  vous  le  pourrez.    Sacrifiez  toujours  aux  Graces. 


VII. 

FLAT  CONTRADICTION  A   PROOF    OF    ILL  BREEDING.— 
AN   EPIGRAM.— SIMILES  AND   METAPHORS. 

July  13,  1764. 

I  shall  sometimes  correspond  with  my  giddy  little 
boy  in  English,^  that  he  may  not  be  a  stranger  to 
his  own  language ;  for  though  it  is  very  useful  and 
becoming  to  a  gentleman  to  speak  several  languages 
well,  it  is  most  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  speak 
his  own  native  language  correctly  and  elegantly,  not 
to  be  laughed  at  in  every  company.  It  is  a  ter- 
rible thing  to  be  ridiculous,  and  little  things  will 
make  a  man  so.  For  instance,  not  writing  nor 
spelling  well  makes  any  man  ridiculous,  but  above 
all  things  being  ill  bred  makes  a  man  not  only 
ridiculous  but  hated.     I  am  sure  you  know  that  it  is 

1  Many  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  earlier  letters  to  his  god- 
son were  written  in  French. 


252     LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

your  most  important  moral  duty  to  do  to  others 
what  you  would  have  them  do  to  you ;  and  would 
you  have  them  civil  to  you  and  endeavor  to  please 
you  ?  To  be  sure  you  would ;  consequently  it  is 
your  duty  as  well  as  your  interest  to  be  civil  to,  and 
to  endeavor  to  please,  them.  There  is  no  greater 
mark  of  ill  breeding  than  contradicting  people 
bluntly,  and  saying,  "  No,"  or  "  It  is  not  so ;  "  and 
I  will  give  you  warning  that  if  you  say  so,  you  will 
be  called  Phil  Trott,  of  Mansfield,  and  perhaps  you 
would  never  get  off  of  that  name  as  long  as  you  live, 
for  ridicule  sticks  a  great  while.  When  well-bred 
people  contradict  anybody,  they  say,  instead  of 
"No,"  "I  ask  pardon,  but  I  take  it  to  be  other- 
wise," or  "  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the  contrary ;  "  but  a 
flat "  No"  is  as  much  the  same  as  saying  "  You  lie  ;  " 
for  which  if  you  were  a  man  you  would  be  knocked 
down,  and  perhaps  run  through  the  body.  To  re- 
fresh your  English,  I  send  you  here  a  pretty  little 
gallant  epigram,  written  upon  a  lady's  fan  by  the 
late  Bishop  of  Rochester,  Dr.  Atterbury. 

"  Flavia  the  least  and  slightest  toy 
Can  with  resistless  art  employ. 
This  fan  in  other  hands  would  prove 
An  engine  of  small  force  in  love ; 
But  she  with  matchless  air  and  mien. 
Not  to  be  told  nor  safely  seen, 
Directs  its  wanton  motions  so, 
It  wounds  us  more  than  Cupid's  bow, 
Gives  coolness  to  the  matchless  dame, 
To  every  other  breast  a  flame. 

This  epigram  you  see  turns  upon  the  flame  of 
love,  which  is  a  common  metaphor  used  by  lovers, 


TO  HIS   GODSON.  253 

and  the  coolness  that  fanning  gives.  But  you  will 
naturally  ask  me  what  is  a  metaphor,  and  I  will  tell 
you  that  it  is  a  short  simile,  but  then  what  is  a 
simile?  A  simile  is  a  comparison,  as  for  example, 
if  you  should  say  that  Charles  the  Twelfth  of  Swe- 
den was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  that  would  be  a  simile, 
because  you  compare  him  to  a  lion ;  but  if  you  said 
that  Charles  the  Twelfth  was  a  lion,  that  would  be 
a  metaphor,  because  you  do  not  say  that  he  was  like 
a  lion,  but  that  he  was  a  lion.  Do  you  understand 
this?  Good-night,  my  little  boy;  be  attentive  to 
your  book,  well  bred  in  company,  and  alive  at  your 
play.     Be  totus  in  illis. 


VIII. 

DO  UNTO  OTHERS  AS  YOU  WOULD  THEY  SHOULD 
DO  UNTO  YOU. 

Bath,  Nov.  7,  1765. 
My  dear  little  Boy,  —  The  desire  of  being 
pleased  is  universal ;  the  desire  of  pleasing  should  be 
so  too,  —  it  is  included  in  that  great  and  funda- 
mental principle  of  morality,  of  doing  to  others  what 
one  wishes  that  they  should  do  to  us.  There  are 
indeed  some  moral  duties  of  a  much  higher  but 
none  of  a  more  amiable  nature,  and  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  place  it  at  the  head  of  what  Cicero  calls 
the  "  leniores  virtutes."  The  benevolent  and  feeling 
heart  performs  this  duty  with  pleasure,  and  in  a 
manner  that  gives  it  at  the  same  time  ;  but  the  great, 
the  rich,  and  the  powerful  too  often  bestow  their 


254    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

favors  upon  their  inferiors  in  a  manner  that  they 
bestow  their  scraps  upon  their  dogs,  —  so  as  neither 
to  oblige  man  nor  dog.  It  is  no  wonder  if  favors, 
benefits,  and  even  charities,  thus  ungraciously  be- 
stowed, should  be  as  coldly  and  faintly  acknowl- 
edged. Gratitude  is  a  burden  upon  our  imperfect 
nature,  and  we  are  but  too  willing  to  ease  ourselves 
of  it,  or  at  least  to  lighten  it  as  much  as  we  can. 
The  manner  therefore  of  conferring  favors  or  bene- 
fits is  as  to  pleasing  almost  as  important  as  the 
matter  itself  Take  care,  then,  never  to  throw  away 
the  obligations  which  you  may  perhaps  have  it  in 
your  power  to  lay  upon  others,  by  an  air  of  inso- 
lent protection,  or  by  a  cold,  comfortless,  and  per- 
functory manner,  which  stifles  them  in  their  birth. 
Humanity  inclines,  religion  requires,  and  our  moral 
duty  obliges  us  to  relieve  as  far  as  we  are  able  the 
distresses  and  miseries  of  our  fellow  creatures ;  but 
this  is  not  all,  for  a  true,  heartfelt  benevolence  and 
tenderness  will  prompt  us  to  contribute  what  we 
can  to  their  ease,  their  amusement,  and  their  pleas- 
ure as  far  as  innocently  we  may.  Let  us  then  not 
only  scatter  benefits  but  even  strew  flowers  for  our 
fellow  travellers  in  the  rugged  ways  of  this  wretched 
world.  There  are  some,  and  but  too  many  in  this 
coimtry  more  particularly,  who  without  the  least 
visible  taint  of  ill-nature  or  malevolence  seem  to  be 
totally  indifferent,  and  do  not  show  the  least  desire 
to  please,  as  on  the  other  hand  they  never  design- 
edly offend.  Whether  this  proceeds  from  a  lazy, 
negligent,  and  listless  disposition,  from  a  gloomy 
and    melancholic   nature,  from  ill  health   and   low 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  2$$ 

Spirits,  or  from  a  secret  and  sullen  pride  arising 
from  the  consciousness  of  their  boasted  liberty  and 
independency,  is  hard  to  determine,  considering  the 
various  movements  of  the  human  heart,  and  the 
wonderful  errors  of  the  human  mind;  but  be  the 
cause  what  it  will,  that  neutrality  which  is  the  effect 
of  it  makes  these  people,  as  neutralities  always 
do,  despicable,  and  mere  blanks  in  society.  They 
would  surely  be  roused  from  this  indifference,  if 
they  would  seriously  consider  the  infinite  utility  of 
pleasing,  which  I  shall  do  in  my  next. 

IX. 

ON  SELF-COMMAND. 

Bath,  Dec.  12,  1765. 
My  dear  little  Boy,  —  If  you  have  not  com- 
mand enough  over  yourself  to  conquer  your  humor, 
as  I  hope  you  will  and  as  I  am  sure  every  rational 
creature  may  have,  never  go  into  company  while 
the  fit  of  ill  humor  is  upon  you.  Instead  of  com- 
panies diverting  you  in  those  moments,  you  will 
displease  and  probably  shock  them,  and  you  will 
part  worse  friends  than  you  met.  But  whenever 
you  find  in  yourself  a  disposition  to  suUenness,  con- 
tradiction, or  testiness,  it  will  be  in  vain  to  seek  for 
a  cure  abroad ;  stay  at  home,  let  your  humor  fer- 
ment, and  work  itself  off.  Cheerfulness  and  good 
humor  are  of  all  qualifications  the  most  amiable  in 
company,  for  though  they  do  not  necessarily  imply 
good-nature  and  good  breeding,  they  act  them  at 


256     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

least  very  well,  and  that  is  all  that  is  required  in 
mixed  company.  I  have  indeed  known  some  very 
ill-natured  people  who  are  very  good-humored  in 
company,  but  I  never  knew  anybody  generally  ill- 
humored  in  company  who  was  not  essentially  ill- 
natured.  When  there  is  no  malevolence  in  the 
heart,  there  is  always  a  cheerfulness  and  ease  in  the 
countenance  and  the  manners.  By  good  humor 
and  cheerfulness  I  am  far  from  meaning  noisy  mirth 
and  loud  peals  of  laughter,  which  are  the  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  of  the  vulgar  and  the  ill  bred, 
whose  mirth  is  a  kind  of  a  storm.  Observe  it,  the 
vulgar  often  laugh  but  never  smile,  whereas  well- 
bred  people  often  smile  and  seldom  or  never  laugh. 
A  witty  thing  never  excited  laughter ;  it  pleases  only 
the  mind  and  never  distorts  the  countenance.  A 
glaring  absurdity,  a  blunder,  a  silly  accident,  and 
those  things  that  are  generally  called  comical  may 
excite  a  momentary  laugh,  though  never  a  loud  nor 
a  long  one  among  well-bred  people.  Sudden  pas- 
sion is  called  a  short-lived  madness  ;  it  is  a  mad- 
ness indeed,  but  the  fits  of  it  generally  return  so 
often  in  choleric  people  that  it  may  well  be  called 
a  continual  madness.  Should  you  happen  to  be 
of  this  unfortunate  disposition,  which  God  forbid, 
make  it  your  constant  study  to  subdue  or  at  least  to 
check  it.  When  you  find  your  choler  rising,  resolve 
neither  to  speak  to  nor  answer  the  person  who 
excites  it,  but  stay  till  you  find  it  subsiding  and 
then  speak  deliberately.  I  have  known  many  people 
who  by  the  rapidity  of  their  speech  have  run  away 
with  themselves  into  a  passion.     I  will  mention  to 


rO  HIS  GODSON.  257 

you  a  trifling  and  perhaps  you  will  think  a  ridiculous 
receipt  toward  checking  the  excess  of  passion,  of 
which  I  think  that  I  have  experienced  the  utility 
myself.  Do  everything  in  Menuet  time ;  speak, 
think,  and  move  always  in  that  measure,  equally 
free  from  the  dulness  of  slow  or  the  hurry  and 
huddle  of  quick  time.  This  movement  moreover 
will  allow  you  some  moments  to  think  forwards,  and 
the  Graces  to  accompany  what  you  say  or  do,  for 
they  are  never  represented  as  either  running  or 
dozing.  Observe  a  man  in  a  passion ;  see  his  eyes 
glaring,  his  face  inflamed,  his  limbs  trembling,  and 
his  tongue  stammering  and  faulting  with  rage,  and 
then  ask  yourself  calmly  whether  you  would  upon 
any  account  be  that  human  wild  beast.  Such  crea- 
tures are  hated  and  dreaded  in  all  companies  where 
they  are  let  loose,  as  people  do  not  choose  to  be 
exposed  to  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  either 
knocking  down  these  brutes  or  being  knocked  down 
by  them.  Do  on  the  contrary  endeavor  to  be  cool 
and  steady  upon  all  occasions.  The  advantages  of 
such  a  steady  calmness  are  innumerable  and  would 
be  too  tedious  to  relate.  It  may  be  acquired  by 
care  and  reflection.  If  it  could  not,  that  reason 
which  distinguishes  men  from  brutes  would  be 
given  us  to  very  little  purpose.  As  a  proof  of  this 
I  never  saw  and  scarcely  ever  heard  of  a  Quaker 
in  a  passion.  In  truth  there  is  in  that  sect  a  de- 
corum, a  decency,  and  an  amiable  simplicity  that 
I  know  in  no  other.  Having  mentioned  the  Graces 
in  this  letter,  I  cannot  end  it  without  recommending 
to  you  most  earnestly  the  advice  of  the  wisest  of  the 
17 


258    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

ancients,  —  to  sacrifice  to  them  devoutly  and  daily. 
When  they  are  propitious  they  adorn  everything 
and  engage  everybody.  But  are  they  to  be  ac- 
quired ?  Yes,  to  a  certain  degree  they  are,  by  atten- 
tion, observation,  and  assiduous  worship.  Nature, 
I  admit,  must  first  have  made  you  capable  of  adopt- 
ing them,  and  then  observation  and  imitation  will 
make  them  in  time  your  own.  There  are  graces  of 
the  mind  as  well  as  of  the  body  ;  the  former  give  an 
easy,  engaging  turn  to  the  thoughts  and  the  expres- 
sions, the  latter  to  motions,  attitude,  and  address. 
No  man  perhaps  ever  possessed  them  all ;  he 
would  be  too  happy  that  did  :  but  if  you  will  atten- 
tively observe  those  graceful  and  engaging  manners 
which  please  you  most  in  other  people,  you  may 
easily  collect  what  will  equally  please  others  in  you 
and  engage  the  majority  of  the  Graces  on  your  side, 
insure  the  casting  vote,  and  be  returned  aimahle. 
There  are  people  whom  the  Precieiise  of  Moliere 
very  justly  though  very  affectedly  calls  "  les  Antipodes 
des  Graces."  If  these  unhappy  people  are  formed 
by  nature  invincibly  Maussades  and  awkward,  they 
are  to  be  pitied  rather  than  blamed  or  ridiculed ; 
but  nature  has  disinherited  few  people  to  that 
degree. 


X. 


TRUE  WIT  AND   ITS   JUDICIOUS   USE. 

Bath,  Dec.  18,  1765. 
My  dear  LITTLE  BoY,  —  If  God  gives  you  wit, 
which   I   am  not  sure  that  I  \vish  you  unless  He 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  259 

gives  you  at  the  same  time  an  equal  portion  at 
least  of  judgment  to  keep  it  in  good  order,  wear  it 
like  your  sword  in  the  scabbard  and  do  not  bran- 
dish it  to  the  terror  of  the  whole  company.  If  you 
have  real  wit  it  will  flow  spontaneously,  and  you 
need  not  aim  at  it,  for  in  that  case  the  rule  of  the 
Gospel  is  reversed,  and  it  will  prove,  Seek  and  you 
shall  not  find.  Wit  is  so  shining  a  quality  that 
everybody  admires  it,  most  people  aim  at  it,  all 
people  fear  it,  and  few  love  it  unless  in  them- 
selves. A  man  must  have  a  good  share  of  wit 
himself  to  endure  a  great  share  of  it  in  another. 
When  wit  exerts  itself  in  satire  it  is  a  most  malig- 
nant distemper ;  wit  it  is  true  may  be  shown  in 
satire,  but  satire  does  not  constitute  wit,  as  most 
fools  imagine  it  does.  A  man  of  real  wit  will  find 
a  thousand  better  occasions  of  showing  it.  Abstain 
therefore  most  carefully  from  satire,  which  though 
it  fall  upon  no  particular  person  in  company  and 
momentarily  from  the  malignity  of  the  human  heart 
pleases  all,  upon  reflection  it  frightens  all  too ;  they 
think  it  may  be  their  turn  next,  and  will  hate  you 
for  what  they  find  you  could  say  of  them  more 
than  be  obliged  to  you  for  what  you  do  not  say. 
Fear  and  hatred  are  next-door  neighbors.  The 
more  wit  you  have  the  more  good  nature  and  po- 
liteness you  must  show,  to  induce  people  to  pardon 
your  superiority,  for  that  is  no  easy  matter.  .  .  .  The 
character  of  a  man  of  wit  is  a  shining  one  that 
every  man  would  have  if  he  could,  though  it  is 
often  attended  by  some  inconveniencies ;  the  dull- 
est alderman  even  aims  at  it,  cracks  his  dull  joke. 


260    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

and  thinks  or  at  least  hopes  that  it  is  wit.  But 
the  denomination  of  a  wit  is  always  formidable 
and  very  often  ridiculous.  These  titular  wits  have 
commonly  much  less  wit  than  petulance  and  pre- 
sumption. They  are  at  best  les  rieurs  de  leur  quar- 
tier,  in  which  narrow  sphere  they  are  at  once  feared 
and  admired.  You  will  perhaps  ask  me,  and  justly, 
how,  considering  the  delusions  of  self  love  and  van- 
ity, from  which  no  man  living  is  absolutely  free, 
how  you  shall  know  whether  you  have  wit  or  not. 
To  which  the  best  answer  I  can  give  you  is,  not  to 
trust  to  the  voice  of  your  own  judgment,  for  it  will 
deceive  you ;  nor  to  your  ears,  which  will  always 
greedily  receive  flattery,  if  you  are  worth  being 
flattered ;  but  trust  only  to  your  eyes,  and  read  in 
the  countenances  of  good  company  their  approba- 
tion or  dislike  of  what  you  say.  Observe  carefully 
too  whether  you  are  sought  for,  solicited,  and  in  a 
manner  pressed  into  good  company.  But  even  all 
this  will  not  absolutely  ascertain  your  wit,  therefore 
do  not  upon  this  encouragement  flash  your  wit  in 
people's  faces  a  ricochets,  in  the  shape  of  bans  niots, 
epigrams,  smart  reparties.  etc.  Have  rather  less 
than  more  wit  than  you  really  have.  A  wise  man 
will  live  at  least  as  much  within  his  wit  as  within 
his  income.  Content  yourself  with  good  sense  and 
reason,  which  at  long  run  are  sure  to  please  every- 
body who  has  either.  If  wit  comes  into  the  bar- 
gain, welcome  it,  but  never  invite  it.  Bear  this 
truth  always  in  your  mind,  that  you  may  be  admired 
for  your  wit  if  you  have  any,  but  that  nothing  but 
good  sense  and  good  qualities  can  make  you  be 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  26 1 

loved.  They  are  substantial,  every  day's  wear.  Wil 
is  for  les  jours  de  gala,  where  people  go  chiefly  to 
be  stared  at. 


XI. 

RAILLERY,   MIMICRY,   WAGS,    AND  WITLINGS. 

Dec.  28,  1765. 

My  DEAR  LiiTLE  BoY,  —  There  is  a  species  of 
minor  wit  which  is  much  used  and  much  more 
abused,  —  I  mean  Raillery.  It  is  a  most  mischievous 
and  dangerous  weapon  when  in  unskilful  or  clumsy 
hands,  and  it  is  much  safer  to  let  it  quite  alone 
than  to  play  with  it ;  and  yet  almost  everybody  does 
play  with  it,  though  they  see  daily  the  quarrels  and 
heart-burnings  that  it  occasions.  In  truth  it  impHes 
a  supposed  superiority  in  the  railleur  to  the  raille  ; 
which  no  man  likes  even  the  suspicion  of  in  his 
own  case,  though  it  may  divert  him  in  other  peo- 
ple's. An  innocent  raillerie  is  often  inoffensively 
begun  but  very  seldom  inoffensively  ended,  for 
that  depends  upon  the  raille,  who  if  he  cannot 
defend  himself  well  grows  brutal,  and  if  he  can, 
very  possibly  his  railleur,  baffled  and  disappointed, 
becomes  so.  It  is  a  sort  of  trial  of  wit  in  which 
no  man  can  patiently  bear  to  have  his  inferiority 
made  appear.  The  character  of  a  railleur  is  more 
generally  feared  and  more  heartily  hated  than  any 
one  I  know  in  the  world.  The  injustice  of  a  bad 
man  is  sooner  forgiven  than  the  insult  of  a  witty 


262     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

one.  The  former  only  hurts  one's  Hberty  or  prop- 
erty, but  the  latter  hurts  and  mortifies  that  secret 
pride  which  no  human  breast  is  free  from.  I  will 
allow  that  there  is  a  sort  of  raillery  which  may  not 
only  be  inoffensive  but  even  flattering,  as  when  by 
a  genteel  irony  you  accuse  people  of  those  imper- 
fections which  they  are  most  notoriously  free  from 
and  consequently  insinuate  that  they  possess  the 
contrary  virtues.  You  may  safely  call  Aristides  a 
knave,  or  a  very  handsome  woman  an  ugly  one ; 
but  take  care  that  neither  the  man's  character  nor 
the  lady's  beauty  be  in  the  least  doubtful.  But 
this  sort  of  raillery  requires  a  very  light  and  steady 
hand  to  administer  it.  A  little  too  rough,  it  may 
be  mistaken  into  an  offence,  and  a  little  too  smooth, 
it  may  be  thought  a  sneer,  which  is  a  most  odious 
thing.  There  is  another  sort,  I  will  not  call  it  of 
wit,  but  rather  of  merriment  and  buffoonry,  which 
is  mimicry ;  the  most  successful  mimic  in  the  world 
is  always  the  most  absurd  fellow,  and  an  ape  is 
infinitely  his  superior.  His  profession  is  to  imitate 
and  ridicule  those  natural  defects  and  deformities 
for  which  no  man  is  in  the  least  accountable,  and 
in  their  imitation  of  them  make  themselves  for  the 
time  as  disagreeable  and  shocking  as  those  they 
mimic.  But  I  will  say  no  more  of  these  creatures, 
who  only  amuse  the  lowest  rabble  of  mankind. 
There  is  another  sort  of  human  animals  called 
wags,  whose  profession  is  to  make  the  company 
laugh  immoderately,  and  who  always  succeed  pro- 
vided the  company  consist  of  fools,  but  who  are 
greatly  disappointed  in  finding  that  they  never  can 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  263 

alter  a  muscle  in  the  face  of  a  man  of  sense.  This 
is  a  most  contemptible  character  and  never  es- 
teemed, even  by  those  who  are  silly  enough  to  be 
diverted  by  them.  Be  content  both  for  yourself 
with  sound  good  sense  and  good  manners,  and  let 
wit  be  thrown  into  the  bargain  where  it  is  proper 
and  inoffensive.  Good  sense  will  make  you  be  es- 
teemed, good  manners  be  loved,  and  wit  give  a 
lustre  to  both. 


XII. 

THE  COXCOMB. —THE  TIMID   MAN. 

Jan.  2,  1766. 

My  dear  LITTLE  BoY,  —  If  there  is  a  lawful  and 
proper  object  of  raillery  it  seems  to  be  a  coxcomb, 
as  an  usurper  of  the  common  rights  of  mankind. 
But  here  some  precautions  are  necessary.  Some 
wit  and  great  presumption  constitute  a  coxcomb, 
for  a  true  coxcomb  must  have  parts.  The  most 
consummate  coxcomb  I  ever  knew  was  a  man  of 
the  most  wit,  but  whose  wit,  bloated  with  presump- 
tion, made  him  too  big  for  any  company,  where  he 
always  usurped  the  seat  of  empire  and  crowded  out 
common  sense.  Raillerie  seems  to  be  a  proper  rod 
for  these  offenders,  but  great  caution  and  skill  are 
necessary  in  the  use  of  it  or  you  may  happen  to 
catch  a  Tartar  as  they  call  it,  and  then  the  laughers 
will  be  against  you.  The  best  way  with  these  peo- 
ple is  to  let  them  quite  alone  and  give  them  rope 
enough.     On  the  other  hand  there  are  many  and 


264    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

perhaps  more  who  suffer  from  their  timidity  and 
mauvaise  honte,  which  sink  them  infinitely  below 
their  level.  Timidity  is  generally  taken  for  stupidity, 
which  for  the  most  part  it  is  not,  but  proceeds  from 
a  want  of  education  in  good  company.  Mr.  Addi- 
son was  the  most  timid  and  awkward  man  in  good 
company  I  ever  saw,  and  no  wonder,  for  he  had 
been  wholly  cloistered  up  in  the  cells  of  Oxford  till 
he  was  five  and  twenty  years  old.  La  Bruy^re  says, 
and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  it,  "  qu'on  ne 
vaut  dans  ce  monde  que  ce  que  Ton  veut  valoir ;  " 
for  in  this  respect  mankind  show  great  indulgence 
and  value  people  at  pretty  near  the  price  they  set 
upon  themselves,  if  it  be  not  exorbitant.  I  could 
wish  you  to  have  a  cool  intrepid  assurance  with 
great  seeming  modesty,  —  never  demontd  and  never 
forward.  Very  awkward  timid  people  who  have 
not  been  used  to  good  company  are  either  ridicu- 
lously bashful  or  absurdly  impudent.  I  have  known 
many  a  man  impudent  from  shamefacedness,  en- 
deavoring to  act  a  reasonable  assurance  and  lashing 
himself  up  to  what  he  imagines  to  be  a  proper  and 
easy  behavior.  A  very  timid  bashful  man  is  anni- 
hilated in  good  company,  especially  of  his  superiors. 
He  does  not  know  what  he  says  or  does  and  is  in  a 
ridiculous  agitation  both  of  body  and  mind.  Avoid 
both  these  extremes  and  endeavor  to  possess  your- 
self with  coolness  and  steadiness.  Speak  to  the 
King  with  full  as  little  concern  (though  with  more 
respect)  as  you  would  to  your  equals.  This  is  the 
distinguishing  characteristic  of  a  gentleman  and  a 
man  of  the  world.     The  way  to  acquire  this  most 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  265 

necessary  behavior  is,  as  I  have  told  you  before,  to 
keep  company,  whatever  difficulty  it  may  cost  you 
at  first,  with  your  superiors  and  with  women  of 
fashion,  instead  of  taking  refuge  as  too  many  young 
people  do  in  low  and  bad  company  in  order  to 
avoid  the  restraint  of  good  breeding.  It  is,  I  con- 
fess, a  pretty  difficult,  not  to  say  an  impossible  thing, 
for  a  young  man  at  his  first  appearance  in  the 
world  and  unused  to  the  ways  and  manners  of  it, 
not  to  be  disconcerted  and  embarrassed.  When  he 
first  comes  into  what  is  called  the  best  company,  he 
sees  that  they  stare  at  him,  and  if  they  happen  to 
laugh  he  is  sure  that  they  laugh  at  him.  This  awk- 
wardness is  not  to  be  blamed,  as  it  often  proceeds 
from  laudable  causes,  from  a  modest  diffidence  of 
himself  and  a  consciousness  of  not  yet  knowing  the 
modes  and  manners  of  good  company  ;  but  let  him 
persevere  with  a  becoming  modesty  and  he  will  find 
that  all  people  of  good  nature  and  good  breeding 
will  assist  and  help  him  out  instead  of  laughing  at 
him,  and  then  a  very  little  usage  of  the  world  and 
an  attentive  observation  will  soon  give  him  a  proper 
knowledge  of  it.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  low  and 
bad  company,  which  commonly  consists  of  wags  and 
witlings,  to  laugh  at,  disconcert,  and  as  they  call  it 
bamboozle  a  young  fellow  of  ingenuous  modesty. 
You  will  tell  me  perhaps  that  to  do  all  this  one 
must  have  a  good  share  of  vanity ;  I  grant  it,  but 
the  great  point  is  ne  quid  nimis,  for  I  fear  that 
Monsieur  de  la  Rochefoucault's  maxim  is  too  true, 
"  que  la  vertu  n'iroit  pas  loin,  si  la  vanite  ne  lui  tenoit 
pas  compagnie."     A  man  who  despairs  of  pleasing 


266    LETTERS  OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD 

will  never  please ;  a  man  who  is  sure  that  he  shall 
always  please  wherever  he  goes,  is  a  coxcomb ;  but 
the  man  who  hopes  and  endeavors  to  please,  and 
believes  that  he  may,  will  most  infallibly  please. 

XIII. 

THE  "  MAN  OF  SPIRIT."  —  SCANDAL  AND  INSINUATION. 

JaJt.  lO,  1766. 

My  dear  little  Boy,  — I  know  that  you  are  gener- 
ous and  benevolent  in  your  nature,  but  that,  though 
the  principal  point,  is  not  quite  enough ;  you  must 
seem  so  too.  I  do  not  mean  ostentatiously,  but  do  not 
be  ashamed  as  many  young  fellows  are  of  owning  the 
laudable  sentiments  of  good-nature  and  humanity 
which  you  really  feel.  I  have  known  many  young 
men  who  desired  to  be  reckoned  men  of  spirit  af- 
fect a  hardness  and  an  unfeelingness  which  in  real- 
ity they  never  had.  Their  conversation  is  in  the 
decisive  and  minatory  tone  ;  they  are  for  breaking 
bones,  cutting  off  ears,  throwing  people  out  of  the 
window,  etc.,  and  all  these  fine  declarations  they 
ratify  with  horrible  and  silly  oaths.  All  this  is  to 
be  thought  men  of  spirit !  Astonishing  error  this, 
which  necessarily  reduces  them  to  this  dilemma, — 
if  they  really  mean  what  they  say,  they  are  brutes, 
and  if  they  do  not,  they  are  fools  for  saying  it.  This 
however  is  a  common  character  amongst  young 
men.  Carefully  avoid  this  contagion  and  content 
yourself  with  being  calmly  and  mildly  resolute  and 
steady  when  you  are  thoroughly  convinced  that  you 
are  in  the  right,   for  this  is  true   spirit.     What  is 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  267 

commonly  called  in  the  world  a  man  or  a  woman 
of  spirit,  are  the  two  most  detestable  and  most  dan- 
gerous animals  that  inhabit  it.  They  are  wrong- 
headed,  captious,  jealous,  offended  without  reason 
and  offending  with  as  little.  The  man  of  spirit  has 
immediate  recourse  to  his  sword  and  the  woman  of 
spirit  to  her  tongue,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  which  of 
the  two  is  the  most  mischievous  weapon.  It  is  too 
usual  a  thing  in  many  companies  to  take  the  tone 
of  scandal  and  defamation ;  some  gratify  their  ma- 
lice and  others  think  that  they  show  their  wit  by  it. 
But  I  hope  that  you  will  never  adopt  this  tone. 
On  the  contrary  do  you  always  take  the  favorable 
side  of  the  question,  and,  without  an  offensive  and 
flat  contradiction,  seem  to  doubt,  and  represent  the 
uncertainty  of  reports,  where  private  malice  is  at 
least  very  apt  to  mingle  itself.  This  candid  and 
temperate  behavior  will  please  the  whole  uncandid 
company,  though  a  sort  of  gentle  contradiction  to 
their  unfavorable  insinuations,  as  it  makes  them  hope 
that  they  may  in  their  turns  find  an  advocate  in  you. 
There  is  another  kind  of  offensiveness  often  used  in 
company,  which  is  to  throw  out  hints  and  insinua- 
tions only  applicable  to  and  felt  by  one  or  two  per- 
sons in  the  company,  who  are  consequently  both 
embarrassed  and  angry,  and  the  more  so  as  they 
are  the  more  unwilling  to  show  that  they  apply 
these  hints  to  themselves.  Have  a  watch  over 
yourself  never  to  say  anything  that  either  the  whole 
company  or  any  one  person  in  it  can  reasonably  or 
probably  take  ill,  and  remember  the  French  saying, 
"qu'il  ne  faut  pas  parler  de  corde  dans  la  maison 


268     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

d'un  pendu."  Good- nature  universally  charms  even 
all  those  who  have  none,  and  it  is  impossible  to  be 
aimable  without  both  the  reality  and  the  appear- 
ances of  it. 

XIV. 

VANITY.—  FEIGNED  SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

Jan.  14,  1766. 

My  dear  little  Boy,  —  The  Egotism  is  the  usual 
and  favorite  figure  of  most  people's  rhetoric,  which 
I  hope  you  will  never  adopt,  but  on  the  contrary 
most  scrupulously  avoid.  Nothing  is  more  dis- 
agreeable nor  irksome  to  the  company  than  to  hear 
a  man  either  praising  or  condemning  himself:  for 
both  proceed  from  the  same  motive,  vanity.  I 
would  allow  no  man  to  speak  of  himself  unless  in  a 
Court  of  Justice  in  his  own  defence,  or  as  a  witness. 
Shall  a  man  speak  in  his  own  praise,  however  justly  ? 
No.  The  hero  of  his  own  little  tale  always  puzzles 
and  disgusts  the  company,  who  do  not  know  what 
to  say  nor  how  to  look.  Shall  he  blame  himself? 
No.  Vanity  is  as  much  the  motive  of  his  self- 
condemnation  as  of  his  own  panegyric.  I  have 
known  many  people  take  shame  to  themselves,  and 
with  a  modest  contrition  confess  themselves  guilty 
of  most  of  the  cardinal  virtues.  They  have  such  a 
weakness  in  their  nature  that  they  cannot  help 
being  too  much  moved  with  the  misfortunes  and 
miseries  of  their  fellow-creatures,  which  they  feel 
perhaps  more  but  at  least  as  much  as  they  do  their 
own.     Their  generosity,  they  are  sensible,  is  impru- 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  269 

dence,  for  they  are  apt  to  carry  it  too  far,  from  the 
weak  though  irresistible  beneficence  of  their  nature. 
They  are  possibly  too  jealous  of  their  honor,  and 
too  irascible  whenever  they  think  that  it  is  touched  ; 
and  this  proceeds  from  their  unhappy  warm  con- 
stitution, which  makes  them  too  tender  and  sensible 
upon  that  point.  And  so  on  of  all  the  virtues  pos- 
sible. A  poor  trick,  and  a  wretched  instance  of 
human  vanity  that  defeats  its  own  purpose.  Do 
you  be  sure  never  to  speak  of  yourself,  for  yourself, 
nor  against  yourself;  but  let  your  character  speak 
for  you.  Whatever  that  says  will  be  believed,  but 
whatever  you  say  of  it  will  not,  and  only  make  you 
odious  or  ridiculous.  Be  constantly  upon  your 
guard  against  the  various  snares  and  effects  of  vanity 
and  self-love.  It  is  impossible  to  extinguish  them  ; 
they  are  without  exception  in  every  human  breast, 
and  in  the  present  state  of  nature  it  is  very  right 
that  they  should  be  so  ;  but  endeavor  to  keep  them 
within  due  bounds,  which  is  very  possible.  In  this 
case  dissimulation  is  almost  meritorious,  and  the 
seeming  modesty  of  the  hero  or  of  the  patriot 
adorns  their  other  virtues ;  I  use  the  word  of  "  seem- 
ing," for  their  valets  de  chambrc  know  better. 
Vanity  is  the  more  odious  and  shocking  to  every- 
body, because  everybody  without  exception  has 
vanity;  and  two  vanities  can  never  love  one  an- 
other, any  more  than  according  to  the  vulgar 
saying,  two  of  a  trade  can. 


270     LETTERS   OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

XV. 

ATTENTION.  —  THE   SENSE   OF   PROPRIETY. 

Jan.  21,  1766. 

My  DEAR  LITTLE  BoY,  —  I  have  more  than  once 
recommended  to  you  in  the  course  of  our  corres- 
pondence Attention,  but  I  shall  frequently  recur  to 
that  subject,  which  is  as  inexhaustible  as  it  is  impor- 
tant. Attend  carefully  in  the  first  place  to  human 
nature  in  general,  which  is  pretty  much  the  same  in 
all  human  creatures  and  varies  chiefly  by  modes, 
habits,  education,  and  example.  Analyze,  and  if  I 
may  use  the  expression,  anatomize  it.  Study  your 
own,  and  that  will  lead  you  to  know  other  people's. 
Carefully  observe  the  words,  the  looks,  and  gestures 
of  the  whole  company  you  are  in,  and  retain  all 
their  little  singularities,  humors,  tastes,  antipathies, 
and  affections,  which  will  enable  you  to  please  or 
avoid  them  occasionally  as  your  judgment  may 
direct  you.  I  will  give  you  the  most  trifling  in- 
stance of  this  that  can  be  imagined,  and  yet  will  be 
sure  to  please.  If  you  invite  anybody  to  dinner 
you  should  take  care  to  provide  those  things  which 
you  have  observed  them  to  like  more  particularly, 
and  not  to  have  those  things  which  you  know  they 
have  an  antipathy  to.  These  trifling  things  go  a 
great  way  in  the  art  of  pleasing,  and  the  more  so 
from  being  so  trifling  that  they  are  flattering  proofs 
of  your  regard  for  the  persons  even  to  ininiuies. 
These  things  are  what  the  French  call  des  attentions, 
which  (to  do  them  justice)  they  study  and  practise 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  27 1 

more  than  any  people  in  Europe.  Attend  to  and 
look  at  whoever  speaks  to  you ;  and  never  seem  dis- 
trait or  reveur,  as  if  you  did  not  hear  them  at  all, 
for  nothing  is  more  contemptuous  and  consequently 
more  shocking.  It  is  true  you  will  by  these  means 
often  be  obliged  to  attend  to  things  not  worth  any- 
body's attention,  but  it  is  a  necessary  sacrifice  to  be 
made  to  good  manners  in  society.  A  minute  atten- 
tion is  also  necessary  to  time,  place,  and  characters. 
A  bon  mot  in  one  company  is  not  so  in  another,  but 
on  the  contrary  may  prove  offensive.  Never  joke 
with  those  whom  you  observe  to  be  at  that  time 
pensive  and  grave ;  and  on  the  other  hand  do  not 
preach  and  moralize  in  a  company  full  of  mirth  and 
gayety.  Many  people  come  into  company  full  of 
what  they  intend  to  say  in  it  themselves  without  the 
least  regard  to  others,  and  thus  charged  up  to  the 
muzzle  are  resolved  to  let  it  off  at  any  rate.  I 
knew  a  man  who  had  a  story  about  a  gun  which  he 
thought  a  good  one  and  that  he  told  it  very  well ; 
he  tried  all  means  in  the  world  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation upon  guns,  but  if  he  failed  in  his  attempt  he 
started  in  his  chair  and  said  he  heard  a  gun  fired, 
but  when  the  company  assured  him  that  they  heard 
no  such  thing,  he  answered,  "  Perhaps  then  I  was 
mistaken  but  however,  since  we  are  talking  of  guns  ;  " 
—  and  then  told  his  story,  to  the  great  indignation 
of  the  company.  Become,  as  far  as  with  innocence 
and  honor  you  can,  all  things  to  all  men,  and  you 
will  gain  a  great  many.  Have  des  prevenances  to, 
and  say  or  do  what  you  judge  beforehand  will  be 
most  agreeable  to  them  without  their  hinting  at  or 


2/2     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

expecting  it.  It  would  be  endless  to  specify  the 
numberless  opportunities  that  every  man  has  of 
pleasing  if  he  will  but  make  use  of  them.  Your 
own  good  sense  will  suggest  them  to  you,  and  your 
good-nature  and  even  your  interest  will  induce  you 
to  practise  them.  Great  attention  is  to  be  had  to 
times  and  seasons ;  for  example,  at  meals,  talk  often 
but  never  long  at  a  time,  for  the  frivolous  bustle  of 
the  servants,  and  often  the  more  frivolous  conver- 
sation of  the  guests,  which  chiefly  turns  upon 
kitchen-stuff  and  cellar-stuff,  will  not  bear  any  long 
reasonings  or  relations.  Meals  are  and  were  always 
reckoned  the  moments  of  relaxation  of  the  mind, 
and  sacred  to  easy  mirth  and  social  cheerfulness. 
Conform  to  this  custom  and  furnish  your  quota  of 
good-humor,  but  be  not  induced  by  example  to  the 
frequent  excess  of  gluttony  or  intemperance.  The 
former  inevitably  produces  dulness,  the  latter  mad- 
ness. Observe  the  a  propos  in  everything  you  say 
or  do.  In  conversing  with  those  who  are  much 
your  superiors,  however  easy  and  familiar  you  may 
and  ought  to  be  with  them,  preserve  the  respect 
that  is  due  to  them.  Converse  with  your  equals 
with  an  easy  familiarity  and  at  the  same  time  with 
great  civility  and  decency.  But  too  much  familiar- 
ity, according  to  the  old  saying,  often  breeds  con- 
tempt and  sometimes  quarrels ;  and  I  know  nothing 
more  difficult  in  common  behavior  than  to  fix  due 
bounds  to  familiarity;  too  Httle  implies  an  unso- 
ciable formality,  too  much  destroys  all  friendly  and 
social  intercourse.  The  best  rule  I  can  give  you  to 
manage    familiarity,  is  never  to    be    more    familiar 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  273 

with  anybody  than  you  would  be  wiUing  and  even 
glad  that  he  should  be  with  you ;  on  the  other  hand 
avoid  that  uncomfortable  reserve  and  coldness  which 
is  generally  the  shield  of  cunning,  or  the  protection 
of  dulness.  The  Italian  maxim  is  a  wise  one,  "  Volto 
sciolto  e  pensieri  stretti ;  "  that  is,  let  your  counte- 
nance be  open,  and  your  thoughts  be  close.  To 
your  inferiors  you  should  use  a  hearty  benevolence 
in  your  words  and  actions  instead  of  a  refined  po- 
liteness which  would  be  apt  to  make  them  suspect 
that  you  rather  laughed  at  them.  For  example,  you 
must  show  civility  to  a  mere  country  gentleman  in  a 
very  different  manner  from  what  you  do  to  a  man 
of  the  world.  Your  reception  of  him  should  seem 
hearty  and  rather  coarse  to  relieve  him  from  the 
embarrassment  of  his  own  mauvaise  honte.  Have 
attention  even  in  company  of  fools,  for  though  they 
are  fools  they  may  perhaps  drop  or  repeat  something 
worth  your  knowing  and  which  you  may  profit  by. 
Never  talk  your  best  in  the  company  of  fools,  for 
they  would  not  understand  you,  and  would  perhaps 
suspect  that  you  jeered  them,  as  they  commonly  call 
it ;  but  talk  only  the  plainest  common-sense  to  them, 
and  very  gravely,  for  there  is  no  jesting  nor  badinage 
with  them.  Upon  the  whole  with  attention  and  les 
attentions  you  will  be  sure  to  please ;  without  them 
you  will  be  as  sure  to  offend. 


18 


274    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

XVI. 
AFFECTATIONS.  —  POLITE    CONVERSATION. 

\_iVo  Date.l 
My  dear  LITTLE  BoY,  —  Carefully  avoid  all  affec- 
tation either  of  mind  or  body.  It  is  a  very  true 
and  a  very  trite  observation  that  no  man  is  ridiculous 
for  being  what  he  really  is,  but  for  affecting  to  be 
what  he  is  not.  No  man  is  awkward  by  nature,  but 
by  affecting  to  be  genteel ;  and  I  have  known  many 
a  man  of  common-sense  pass  generally  for  a  fool, 
because  he  affected  a  degree  of  wit  that  God  had 
denied  him.  A  ploughman  is  by  no  means  awkward 
in  the  exercise  of  his  trade,  but  would  be  exceed- 
ingly ridiculous  if  he  attempted  the  air  and  graces 
of  a  man  of  fashion.  You  learned  to  dance,  but  it 
was  not  for  the  sake  of  dancing,  but  it  was  to  bring 
your  air  and  motions  back  to  what  they  would 
naturally  have  been  if  they  had  had  fair  play,  and 
had  not  been  warped  in  your  youth  by  bad  exam- 
ples and  awkward  imitations  of  other  boys.  Nature 
may  be  cultivated  and  improved  both  as  to  the  body 
and  as  to  the  mind ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  extinguished 
by  art,  and  all  endeavors  of  that  kind  are  absurd, 
and  an  inexhaustible  fund  for  ridicule.  Your  body 
and  mind  must  be  at  ease  to  be  agreeable ;  but 
affectation  is  a  perpetual  constraint  under  which  no 
man  can  be  genteel  in  his  carriage  or  pleasing  in 
his  conversation.  Do  you  think  that  your  motions 
would  be  easy  or  graceful  if  you  wore  the  clothes  of 
another  man  much  slenderer  or  taller  than  yourself? 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  2/5 

Certainly  not ;  it  is  the  same  thing  with  the  mind, 
if  you  affect  a  character  that  does  not  fit  you,  and 
that  Nature  never  intended  for  you.  But  here  do 
not  mistake  and  think  that  it  follows  from  hence 
that  you  should  exhibit  your  whole  character  to  the 
public  because  it  is  your  natural  one.  No ;  many 
things  must  be  suppressed,  and  many  occasionally 
concealed  in  the  best  character.  Never  force 
Nature,  but  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  show  it 
all.  Here  discretion  must  come  to  your  assistance, 
that  sure  and  safe  guide  through  life,  —  discretion, 
that  necessary  companion  to  reason,  and  the  useful 
garde-fou,  if  I  may  use  that  expression,  to  wit  and 
imagination.  Discretion  points  out  the  d  propos, 
the  decorum,  the  ne  quid  nimis ;  and  will  carry  a 
man  of  moderate  parts  further  than  the  most  shining 
parts  would  without  it.  It  is  another  word  for  "judg- 
ment," though  not  quite  synonymous  to  it.  Judg- 
ment is  not  upon  all  occasions  required,  but  discre- 
tion always  is.  Never  affect  nor  assume  a  particular 
character,  for  it  will  never  fit  you,  but  will  probably 
give  you  a  ridicule ;  but  leave  it  to  your  conduct, 
your  virtues,  your  morals,  and  your  manners  to  give 
you  one.  Discretion  will  teach  you  to  have  particu- 
lar attention  to  your  moeurs,  which  we  have  no  one 
word  in  our  language  to  express  exactly.  "  Morals  " 
are  too  much,  "  manners  "  too  little  ;  "  decency  " 
comes  the  nearest  to  it,  though  rather  short  of  it. 
Cicero's  word  "  decorum "  is  properly  the  thing, 
and  I  see  no  reason  why  that  expressive  word  should 
not  be  adopted  and  naturalized  in  our  language ;  I 
have  never  scrupled  using  it  in  that  sense.    A  propos 


2/6    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

of  words,  study  your  own  language  more  carefully 
than  most  F^nglish  people  do.  (iet  a  habit  of 
speaking  it  with  propriety  and  elegancy.  For  there 
are  few  things  more  disagreeable  than  to  hear  a 
gentleman  talk  the  barbarisms,  the  solecisms,  and 
the  vulgarisms  of  porters.  Avoid,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  stiff  and  formal  accuracy,  especially  what  the 
women  call  "  hard  words,"  when  plain  ones  as 
expressive  are  at  hand.  The  French  make  it  a 
study  to  "  bien  narrer,"  and  to  say  the  truth  they 
are  apt  to  "  narrer  trop,"  and  with  too  affected  an 
elegancy.  The  three  commonest  topics  of  conver- 
sation are  religion,  politics,  and  news.  All  people 
think  that  they  understand  the  two  first  perfectly, 
though  they  never  studied  either,  and  are  therefore 
very  apt  to  talk  of  them  both  dogmatically  and 
ignorantly,  consequently  with  warmth.  But  religion 
is  by  no  means  a  proper  subject  for  conversation  in 
a  mixed  company.  It  should  only  be  treated  among 
a  very  few  people  of  learning  for  mutual  instruction. 
It  is  too  awful  and  respectable  a  subject  to  become 
a  familiar  one.  Therefore  never  mingle  yourself  in 
it,  any  further  than  to  express  a  universal  toleration 
and  indulgence  to  all  errors  in  it,  if  conscientiousl) 
entertained ;  for  every  man  has  as  good  a  right  to 
think  as  he  does  as  you  have  to  think  as  you  do  ; 
nay,  in  truth  he  cannot  help  it.  As  for  politics, 
they  are  still  more  universally  understood,  and  as 
every  one  thinks  his  private  interest  more  or  less 
concerned  in  them,  nobody  hesitates  to  pronounce 
decisively  upon  them,  not  even  the  ladies;  the 
copiousness  of  whose  eloquence  is  more  to  be  ad- 


TO  HIS   GODSON.  2 77 

mired  upon  that  subject  than  the  conclusiveness  of 
their  logic.  It  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  avoid 
engaging  in  these  conversations,  for  there  are  hardly 
any  others ;  but  take  care  to  do  it  very  coolly  and 
with  great  good-humor;  and  whenever  you  find 
that  the  company  begins  to  be  heated  and  noisy 
for  the  good  of  their  country,  be  only  a  patient 
hearer  ;  unless  you  can  interpose  by  some  agreeable 
badinage  and  restore  good- humor  to  the  company. 
And  here  I  cannot  help  observing  to  you  that 
nothing  is  more  useful  either  to  put  off  or  to 
parry  disagreeable  and  puzzling  affairs,  than  a  good- 
humored  and  genteel  badinage.  I  have  found  it  so 
by  long  experience,  but  this  badinage  must  not  be 
carried  to  mauvaise  plaisanterie.  It  must  be  light 
without  being  frivolous,  sensible  without  being  in 
the  least  sententious,  and  in  short  have  that  pleasing 
je  ne  sais  quoi,  which  everybody  feels,  and  nobody 
can  describe. 

XVII. 

EPITAPH  ON  A  WIFE. 

Black-heath,  Merer edi,  4  Juin  [  1766  ]. 
MoN  CHER  PETIT  Drole,  —  Ne  u^gligeons  pas 
le  Fran9ois,  qu'il  faut  que  vous  sachiez  parler  et 
ecrire  correctement  et  avec  elegance.  Un  honnete 
homme  doit  scavoir  I'Anglois  et  le  Fran9ois  6gale- 
ment  bien,  I'Anglois  parceque  c'est  votre  propre 
langue,  et  que  ce  seroit  honteux  d'en  ignorer 
meme  les  minucies,  et  le  Frangois  parceque  c'est 
en  quelque  fagon  la  langue  universelle.     Voicy  done 


2/8     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

un  epitaphe  que  fit  un  homme  sur  la  mort  de  sa 
femme,  qui  lui  6toit  fort  incommode  et  dont  il 
6toit  fort  las. 

Cy  git  ma  femme,  Ah !  qu'elle  est  bien 
Pour  son  repos  et  pour  le  mien. 


XVIII. 

EVERY  MAN    THE  ARCHITECT  OF    HIS  OWN 
FORTUNE. 

Black-heath,  Aug.  26,  1766. 

My  DEAR  LITTLE  BoY,  —  Your  French  letter  was 
a  very  good  one,  considering  how  long  you  have 
been  disused  to  write  in  that  language.  There  are 
indeed  some  few  faults  in  it,  which  I  will  show  you 
when  we  meet  next,  for  I  keep  your  letter  by  me 
for  that  purpose.  One  cannot  correct  one's  faults 
mthout  knowing  them,  and  I  always  looked  upon 
those  who  told  me  of  mine  as  friends,  instead  of 
being  displeased  or  angry,  as  people  in  general  are 
too  apt  to  be.  You  say  that  I  laugh  at  you  when 
I  tell  you  that  you  may  very  probably  in  time  be 
Secretary  of  State.  No,  I  am  very  serious  in  saying 
that  you  may  if  you  please,  if  you  take  the  proper 
methods  to  be  so.  Writing  well  and  speaking  well 
in  public  are  the  necessary  qualifications  for  it,  and 
they  are  very  easily  acquired  by  attention  and  ap- 
plication. In  all  events,  aim  at  it ;  and  if  you  do 
not  get  it,  let  it  be  said  of  you  what  was  said  of 
Phaethon,  "Magnis  tamen  excidit  ausis." 

Every  man   of  a  generous,  noble    spirit   desires 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  2/9 

first  to  please  and  then  to  shine ;  Facere  digna 
scribi  vel  scribere  digna  legi.  Fools  and  indolent 
people  lay  all  their  disappointments  to  the  charge 
of  their  ill  fortune,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
good  or  ill  fortune.  Every  man  makes  his  own 
fortune  in  proportion  to  his  merit.  An  ancient 
author  whom  you  are  not  yet,  but  will  in  time  be, 
acquainted  with  says  very  justly,  "  Nullum  nuraen 
abest  si  sit  prudentia ;  nos  te  fortuna  Deam  facimus 
caeloque  locamus."  Prudence  there  means  those 
qualifications  and  that  conduct  that  will  command 
fortune.  Let  that  be  your  motto  and  have  it  always 
in  your  mind.  I  was  sure  that  you  would  soon  come 
to  like  your  voluntary  study,  and  I  will  appeal  to 
yourself,  could  you  employ  that  hour  more  agree- 
ably? And  is  it  not  better  than  what  thoughtless 
boys  of  your  age  commonly  call  play,  which  is  run- 
ning about  without  any  object  or  design  and  only 
pour  hier  le  temps  ?  Faire  des  riens  is  the  most 
miserable  abuse  and  loss  of  time  that  can  possibly 
be  imagined.  You  must  know  that  I  have  in  the 
main  a  great  opinion  of  you ;  therefore  take  great 
care  and  pains  not  to  forfeit  it.  And  so  God  bless 
you.     No7i  progredi  est  regredi. 


XIX. 

mXTVE.HTlO'H.—HOC  AGE 

Black-heath,  Oct.  4,  1766. 
Mv  DEAR  LiriLE  BoY,  —  Amoto  quaeramus   seria 
ludo.    I  have  often  trifled  with  you  in  my  letters  and 


28o     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

there  is  no  harm  in  trifling  sometimes.  Dr.  Swift 
used  often  to  say,  "  Vive  la  bagatelle,"  but  everything 
has  its  proper  season  ;  and  when  I  consider  your  age 
now  it  is  proper,  I  think,  to  be  sometimes  serious. 
You  know  I  love  you  mightily,  and  1  find  but  one  sin- 
gle fault  with  you.  You  are  the  best-natured  boy ; 
you  have  good  parts  and  an  excellent  memory ;  but 
now  to  your  fault,  which  you  may  so  easily  correct 
that  I  am  astonished  that  your  own  good  sense  does 
not  make  you  do  it.  It  is  your  giddiness  and  inatten- 
tion which  you  confessed  to  me.  You  know  that  with- 
out a  good  stock  of  learning  you  can  never,  when 
you  are  a  man,  be  received  in  good  company ;  and 
the  only  way  to  acquire  that  stock  is  to  apply  with 
attention  and  diligence  to  whatever  you  are  taught. 
The  hoc  age  is  of  the  utmost  consequence  in  every 
part  of  life.  No  man  can  do  or  think  of  two  things 
at  a  time  to  any  purpose,  and  whoever  does  two 
things  at  once  is  sure  to  do  them  both  ill.  It  is  the 
characteristic  of  a  futile,  frivolous  man  to  be  doing 
one  thing  and  at  the  same  time  thinking  of  another. 
Do  not  imagine  that  I  would  have  you  plod  and 
study  all  day  long ;  no,  leave  that  to  dull  boys, 
(^n  the  contrary  I  would  have  you  divert  yourself 
and  be  as  gay  as  ever  you  please;  but  while  you 
are  learning,  mind  that  only,  and  think  of  nothing 
else ;  it  will  be  the  sooner  over.  They  tell  an  idle 
story  of  Julius  Caesar  that  he  dictated  to  six  secre- 
taries at  once  and  upon  different  businesses.  This 
I  am  sure  is  as  false  as  it  is  absurd,  for  Caesar  had 
too  good  sense  to  do  any  two  things  at  once.  I  am 
sure  that  for  the  future  you  will  attend  diligently  to 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  28 1 

whatever  you  are  doing,  and  that  for  two  reasons  ; 
the  one  is  that  your  own  good  sense  at  eleven  years 
old  will  show  you  not  only  the  utility  but  the  ne- 
cessity of  learning,  the  other  is  that  if  you  love  me 
as  I  believe  you  do,  you  will  cheerfully  do  what  I 
so  earnestly  ask  of  you  for  your  own  sake  only. 
When  I  see  you  next,  which  shall  not  be  very  long, 
first  I  flatter  myself  that  the  Doctor  will  give 
me  a  very  good  account  of  your  close  attention. 
Good-night. 


XX. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  RANK  AND   BIRTH. 

Bath,  Nov.  5,  1766. 
Mv  DEAR  LITTLE  Bov,  —  See  how  punctual  I  am  ; 
I  told  you  that  I  would  write  to  you  first  from 
hence ;  I  arrived  here  but  yesterday,  and  I  write  to- 
day. When  I  saw  you  last  Sunday  you  assured  me 
that  you  had  a  clear  conscience ;  and  I  believe  it, 
for  I  cannot  suppose  you  could  be  guilty  of  so 
horrible  a  crime  as  that  of  asserting  an  untruth. 
To  say  the  truth  I  think  you  have  but  few  faults ; 
and  as  I  perceive  them  I  shall  make  it  my  business 
to  correct  them,  and  assume  the  office  of  censor. 
If  I  mistake  not,  I  have  discovered  in  that  little 
heart  some  lurking  seeds  of  pride,  which  nature, 
who  has  been  very  kind  to  you,  never  sowed  there, 
but  were  transplanted  there  by  vulgar  folly  and 
adulation  at  Mansfield.  You  were  there  my  Young 
Squire,  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  by  anticipation  my 


282     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

Young  Lord.  Well,  and  what  then  ?  Do  not  you 
feel  that  you  owe  those  advantages  wholly  to  chance, 
and  not  to  any  merit  of  your  own  ?  Are  you  better 
born,  as  silly  people  call  it,  than  the  servant  who 
wipes  your  shoes  ?  Not  in  the  least ;  he  had  a  father 
and  a  mother,  and  they  had  fathers  and  mothers 
and  grandfathers  and  grandmothers  and  so  on,  up 
to  the  first  creation  of  the  human  species,  and  is 
consequently  of  as  ancient  a  family  as  yourself^ 
It  is  true  your  family  has  been  more  lucky  than  his, 
but  not  one  jot  better.  You  will  find  in  Ulysses's 
speech  for  the  armor  of  Achilles  this  sensible  ob- 
servation :  "  Nam  genus  et  proavos,  et  quae  non 
fecimus  ipsi  vix  ea  nostra  voco." 

Moreover  you  desire,  and  very  laudably,  to  please  ; 
which  if  you  have  any  pride  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible, for  there  is  not  in  nature  so  hateful  and  so 
ridiculous  a  character  as  that  of  a  man  who  is 
proud  of  his  birth  and  rank.  All  people  hate  and 
ridicule  him ;  he  is  mimicked  and  has  nick-names 
given  him,  such  as  "  the  Sovereign,"  '*  the  Sublime," 
"  the  Stately,"  etc.  I  allow  you  to  be  proud  of  su- 
perior merit  and  learning  when  you  have  them,  but 
that  is  not  the  blameable  and  absurd  pride   of  birth 

1  There  is  a  story  illustrative  of  this  passage  and  char- 
acteristic of  Lord  Chesterfield's  humor.  A  picture  of  a  man 
and  woman  and  two  boys  with  the  Stanhope  Arms  in  the 
corner  was  given  by  some  one  to  Lord  Chesterfield,  as  an 
evidence  of  family  antiquity.  He  accepted  the  gift  and 
wrote  under  it,  "  Adam  Stanhope  of  Eden  Garden  and  Eve 
Stanhope  his  wife,  with  their  two  sons,  Cain  Stanhope  and 
Abel  Stanhope."  See  Mrs.  Carter's  Letters  from  1741  to 
1770,  i.  32.  —  Earl  of  Carnarvon  :  Memoir  of  Chesterfield. 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  283 

and  rank  that  I  mean  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  blame- 
less and  pardonable  vanity,  if  not  carried  too  far. 


XXI. 

SHINING  THOUGHTS   OF  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN 
AUTHORS. 

Saturday  Morning  \yanuary,  1767]. 

My  Dear  Boy,  — 

I  send  you  a  book  which  I  think  must  gratify 
your  love  of  variety.  It  is  a  collection  of  the  most 
shining  thoughts  both  of  the  ancients  and  of  the 
moderns,  compiled  by  the  famous  Pbre  Bouhours, 
a  Jesuit,  a  man  of  great  parts  and  sound  judgment. 
I  endeavor  to  stock  your  mind  with  the  most  ingeni- 
ous thoughts  of  other  people,  in  hopes  that  they  may 
suggest  to  you  materials  for  thinking  yourself;  for 
an  honest  man  will  no  more  live  upon  the  credit  of 
other  people's  thoughts  than  of  their  fortune.  When, 
therefore,  you  dip  into  this  book,  and  that  any 
thought  pleases  you  much,  ask  yourself  why  it  pleases 
you,  and  examine  whether  it  is  founded  upon  truth 
and  nature,  for  nothing  else  can  please  at  long  run. 
Tinsel  false  thoughts  may  impose  upon  one  for  a 
short  time,  like  false  money ;  but  sterling  coin  alone 
will  always  and  everywhere  pass  current.  God  bless 
you  and  make  you  both  an  honest  and  an  able  man, 
but  the  former  above  all  things. 


284    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 
XXII. 

AVARICE   AND    AMBITION, 

Monday  Morning\March,  1767]. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  in 
one  of  your  late  essays  you  preferred  ambition  to 
avarice,  and  indeed  there  is  hardly  any  comparison 
between  them.  Avarice  is  a  mean,  ignoble,  and 
dirty  passion ;  I  never  knew  a  miser  that  had  any 
one  great  or  good  quality ;  but  ambition,  even  where 
it  is  a  vice,  is  at  least  the  vice  of  a  gentleman. 
Ambition,  according  to  its  object,  is  either  blamable 
or  commendable.  Tyrants  and  conquerors,  who 
ravage  and  desolate  the  world,  and  trample  upon 
all  the  rights  of  mankind  to  gratify  their  ambition, 
are  doubtless  the  greatest  and  most  dangerous  of 
all  criminals.  But  an  ambition  to  excel  others  in 
all  virtuous  and  laudable  things  is  not  only  blame- 
less, but  highly  meritorious,  and  should  extend  from 
the  least  to  the  greatest  objects.  You  may  and  I 
hope  have  that  ambition  in  your  little  sphere.  I 
remember  that  when  I  was  of  your  age,  I  had  a  strong 
ambition  to  excel  all  my  contemporaries  in  what- 
ever was  praiseworthy.  I  labored  hard  to  outstrip 
them  in  learning ;  I  was  mortified  if  in  our  little 
plays  they  seemed  more  dexterous  than  I  was ;  nay, 
I  was  uneasy  if  they  danced,  walked,  or  sat  more 
genteelly  than  myself.  Those  little  things  are  by 
no  means  to  be  neglected,  for  they  are  of  more  use 
in  the  common  intercourse  of  life  than  you  imagine 
them  to  be,  especially  in  your  profession,  which  is 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  285 

speaking  in  public.  I  say  in  your  profession,  for 
you  must  excel  in  that  or  you  will  be  nobody.  You 
guess,  I  am  sure,  that  I  mean  speaking  well,  both 
in  public  assemblies  and  in  private  conversation. 
Cicero  speaks  of  eloquence  as  the  principal  object 
of  a  laudable  ambition,  and  asserts  it  to  be  the  chief 
distinction  between  man  and  beast.  "  Quani  ob  rem 
quis  hoc  non  jure  miretur,  summeque  in  eo  elabo- 
randum  esse  arbitretur,  ut,  quo  uno  homines  maxime 
bestiis  praestent,  in  hoc  hominibus  ipsis  antecellat." 
This  is  one  kind  of  ambition,  whose  object  is  pleas- 
ure and  public  utility,  and  consequently  merito- 
rious. Oh,  what  exquisite  joy  must  it  give  an  honest 
man  (you  see  I  endeavor  to  imitate  your  florid 
eloquence)  to  see  multitudes  hang  upon  his  tongue, 
and  persuaded  to  adopt  his  opinion  instead  of  their 
own  !  —  if  they  had  any,  for  very  often  they  have  none, 
and  if  they  have,  it  is  probably  an  erroneous  one. 
I  send  you  herewith  an  excellent  collection  of  Cicero's 
thoughts  upon  various  subjects,  the  Latin  on  one  side, 
and  the  French  translation  by  L'Abbe'  d' Olivet  on 
the  other,  which  French  translation  will  enable  you 
to  understand  the  original  Latin  better  than  can  be 
expected  at  your  age.  I  have  marked  what  he  says 
upon  eloquence ;  read  it  with  attention.  God  bless 
ray  boy. 


286    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 


XXIII. 

THE  ENDEAVOR  TO  ATTAIN  PERFECTION. —SPORT- 
ING TASTES. 

Bath,  Nov.  17,  1767. 
My  DEAR  LITTLE  BoY,  —  Your  last  letter  was  so 
good  a  one  that  had  it  not  been  for  Dr.  Dodd's 
attestation  that  it  was  all  your  own,  I  should  have 
thought  it  a  translation  of  one  of  Cicero's  or  Pliny's, 
those  two  acknowledged  standards  of  epistolary 
perfection.  However,  go  on,  and  strive  to  attain  to 
absolute  perfection  in  writing,  as  in  everything  else 
that  you  do ;  for  though  absolute  perfection  is 
denied  to  human  nature,  those  who  take  the  most 
pains  to  arrive  at  it  will  come  the  nearest  to  it. 
The  famous  disturber  and  scourge  of  mankind, 
Charles  the  Twelfth  of  Sweden,  in  his  low  camp 
style  used  to  say  that  by  resolution  and  perseverance 
a  man  might  do  everything.  ...  I  own  I  cannot 
entirely  agree  with  his  Swedish  Majesty;  but  so 
much  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  every  man  may  by 
unremitting  application  and  endeavors,  do  much 
more  than  at  the  first  setting  out  he  thought  it 
possible  that  he  ever  could  do.  Learn  to  distin- 
guish between  difficulties  and  impossibilities,  which 
many  people  do  not.  The  silly  and  the  sanguine 
look  upon  impossibilities  to  be  only  difficulties ;  as 
on  the  other  hand  the  lazy  and  the  timorous  take 
every  difficulty  for  an  impossibility.  A  greater 
knowledge  of  the  world  will  teach  you  the  proper 
medium  between  those  two  extremes.     I   approve 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  28/ 

greatly  of  your  father's  method  of  shooting  his 
game  with  his  pen  only,  and  heartily  wish  that  when 
you  have  game  of  your  own  you  may  use  no  other. 
For  my  part  I  never  in  my  life  killed  my  own  meat, 
but  left  it  to  the  poulterer  and  butcher  to  do  it  for 
me.  AU  those  country  sports,  as  they  are  called, 
are  the  effects  of  the  ignorance  and  idleness  of 
country  esquires,  who  do  not  know  what  to  do  with 
their  time  ;  but  people  of  sense  and  knowledge  never 
give  in  to  those  illiberal  amusements.  You  make 
me  fair  promises  in  your  letter  of  what  you  will  do ; 
but  remember  that  at  the  same  time  you  give  me 
great  claims  upon  you,  for  I  look  upon  your  prom- 
ises to  be  engagements  upon  the  word  and  honor 
of  a  gentleman,  which  I  hope  you  will  never  violate 
upon  this  or  any  other  occasion.  I  have  long  ago 
and  often  repeated  to  you  "  qu'un  homme  d'honneur 
n'a  que  sa  parole."  God  bless  you. 
My  compliments  to  your  whole  house. 


XXIV, 

THE  TREATMENT  OF   INFERIORS. 

Black-heath,  Tuesday. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  You  behaved  yourself  last  Sat- 
urday very  much  like  a  gentleman,  and  better  than 
any  boy  in  England  of  your  age  would  or  could 
have  done.  Go  on  so,  and  when  you  are  a  man  you 
will  be  with  more  acquaintance  with  the  world  and 
good  company  what  I  most  earnestly  wish  you  to  be, 
the  best  bred  and  consequently  the  best  liked  gen- 


288     LETTERS   OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

tleman  in  England.  Good  breeding,  and  a  certain 
suavitas  morum,  shines  and  charms  in  every  situation 
of  life  with  relation  to  all  sorts  and  ranks  of  people, 
as  well  the  lowest  as  the  highest.  There  is  a  degree 
of  good  breeding  towards  those  who  are  greatly 
your  inferiors  which  is  in  truth  common  humanity 
and  good-nature  ;  and  yet  I  have  known  some  per- 
sons who  in  other  respects  were  well  bred  brutal  to 
their  servants  and  dependents.  This  is  mean,  and 
implies  a  hardness  of  heart,  and  is  what  I  am  sure 
you  never  will  be  guilty  of.  When  you  use  the  im- 
perative mood  to  your  servants  or  dependents,  who 
are  your  equals  by  nature  (and  only  your  inferiors  by 
the  malice  of  their  fortune),  you  will  add  some  soft- 
ening word,  such  as  "pray  do  so  and  so,"  or  "  I  wish 
you  would  do  so."  You  cannot  conceive  how  much 
that  suavity  of  manners  will  endear  you  to  every- 
body, even  to  those  who  have  it  not  themselves.  In 
high  life  there  are  a  thousand  minucies  of  good 
breeding  which  though  minucies  in  themselves  are 
so  necessary  and  agreeable  as  to  deserve  your  ut- 
most attention  and  imitation,  —  as  for  instance  what 
the  French  call  "  le  bon  ton  "  or  "  le  ton  de  la  bonne 
compagnie,"  by  which  is  meant  the  fashionable  tone 
of  good  company.  This  consists  of  many  trifling  ar- 
ticles in  themselves  which  when  cast  up  and  added 
together  make  a  total  of  infinite  consequence. 

Observe  and  adopt  all  those  little  graces  and 
modes  of  the  best  company.  Suppose  two  men  of 
equal  abilities  employed  in  the  same  business,  but 
one  of  them  perfectly  well  bred  and  engaging,  and 
the  other  with  only  the  common  run  of  civility ;  the 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  289 

former   will    certainly    succeed    much    better    and 
sooner   than   the    latter. 


XXV. 

THE  FALSE  PRIDE  OF   RANK. 

Black-heath,  July  16,  1768. 
I  dare  say  you  know,  and  perhaps  too  well,  that  in 
time  probably  you  will  have  a  title  and  a  good 
estate ;  but  I  dare  say  you  know  too  that  you  will 
owe  them  merely  to  chance  and  not  to  any  merit  of 
your  own,  be  your  merit  never  so  great.  Whenever 
you  come  to  the  possession  of  them,  there  will  be 
people  enough  mean  and  absurd  enough  to  flatter 
you  upon  them.  Be  upon  your  guard  against  such 
wretches,  and  be  assured  that  they  must  think  you  a 
fool  and  that  they  have  private  views  to  gratify  by 
such  impudent  adulation.  The  most  absurd  char- 
acter that  I  know  of  in  the  world,  and  the  finest  food 
for  satire  and  ridicule,  is  a  sublime  and  stately  man 
of  quality,  who  without  one  grain  of  any  merit  struts 
pompously  in  all  the  dignity  of  an  ancient  descent 
from  a  long,  restive  race  of  droning  kings,  or  more 
probably  derived  to  him  from  fool  to  fool.  I  could 
name  many  men  of  great  quality  and  fortune  who 
would  pass  through  the  world  quietly,  unknown  and 
unlaughed  at,  were  it  not  for  those  accidental  ad- 
vantages upon  which  they  value  themselves  and 
treat  their  inferiors,  as  they  call  them,  with  arrogance 
and  contempt.  But  I  never  knew  a  man  of  quality 
and  fortune  respected  upon  those  accounts  unless  he 
19 


290    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

was  humble  with  his  title,  and  extensively  generous 
and  beneficent  with  his  fortune.  "  My  Lord  "  is  be- 
come a  ridiculous  nick-name  for  those  proud  fools,  — 
"  See,  My  Lord  comes,"  "  There  's  My  Lord  ;  "  that  is, 
in  other  words, "  See  the  puppy,"  "  There  is  the  block- 
head." 1  am  sure  you  would  by  all  means  avoid 
ridicule,  for  it  sticks  longer  even  than  an  injury ;  and 
to  avoid  it,  wear  your  title  as  if  you  had  it  not ;  but 
for  your  estate,  let  distress  and  want  even  without 
merit  feel  that  you  have  one.  I  remember  four  fine 
lines  of  Voltaire  upon  this  subject :  — 

"  Repandez  vos  bienfaits  avec  magnificence, 
Meme  aux  moins  vertueux  ne  les  refusez  pas; 
Ne  vous  informez  pas  de  leur  reconnoissance, 
II  est  grand,  il  est  beau,  de  faire  des  ingrats." 

By  these  virtues  you  may  dignify  your  title  when 
you  have  one,  but  remember  that  your  title  without 
them  can  never  dignify  you.  Nothing  is  more 
common  than  pride  without  dignity.  A  man  of 
sense  and  virtue  will  always  have  dignity ;  but  a 
fool,  if  shuffled  by  chance  into  great  rank  and  for- 
tune, will  be  proud  of  both.  There  is  as  much  differ- 
ence between  pride  and  dignity  as  there  is  between 
power  and  authority.  Power  may  fall  to  the  share 
of  a  Nero  or  a  Caligula,  but  authority  can  only  be 
the  attendant  of  the  confidence  mankind  have  in 
your  sense  and  virtue.  Aristides  and  Cato  had 
authority. 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  29 1 

XXVI. 

THE   STRICT  VERACITY   OF   A   GENTLEMAN. 

Black-heath,  July  30,  1768. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  My  two  objects  in  your  educa- 
tion are  and  always  have  been  to  give  you  learning 
enough  to  distinguish  yourself  in  Parliament,  and 
manners  to  shine  in  courts.  The  former  is  in  the 
best  hands.  Dr.  Dodd's ;  but  the  latter  department 
I  shall  undertake  myself,  from  my  long  experience 
and  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  the  world.  I  am 
sure  you  would  be  a  gentleman,  and  I  am  as  sure 
that  I  would  by  all  means  have  you  one.  "  A  gentle- 
man "  is  a  complex  term,  answers  exactly  to  the 
French  word  "  honngte  homme,"  and  comprehends 
manners,  decorum,  politeness,  but  above  all  strict 
veracity ;  for  without  that  all  the  accomplishments 
in  the  world  avail  nothing.  A  man  who  is  once 
detected  in  a  lie  —  and  every  liar  is  sooner  or  later 
detected  —  is  irrecoverably  sunk  into  infamy.  No- 
body will  believe  him  afterwards  even  upon  his  oath. 
To  tell  a  man  that  he  lies  is  the  greatest  affront  that 
can  be  offered  him,  and  according  to  the  mad  but 
indispensable  custom  of  the  world,  can  only  be 
washed  off  by  blood.  If  a  man  gives  another  the 
lie,  though  ever  so  justly,  what  must  the  liar  do? 
He  must  fight  him,  and  so  justify  one  crime  by  (if 
possible)  a  greater,  —  a  chance  of  murdering  or  of 
being  murdered ;  and  this  is  what  every  one  who 
deviates  from  truth  is  sooner  or  later  exposed  to. 


292     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

Besides  all  this  there  is  a  moral  turpitude  in  a  lie 
which  no  palliatives  can  excuse ;  and  a  plain  proof 
of  the  infamy  of  this  practice  is  that  no  man,  not 
even  the  worst  man  living,  will  own  himself  a  liar, 
though  many  will  own  as  great  crimes.  Some  peo- 
'  pie  excuse  themselves  to  themselves  by  only  adding 
to  and  embellishing  truth  in  their  narrations,  but 
falsehood  never  can  be  innocent,  for  it  can  only  be 
intended  to  mislead  and  deceive.  But  I  am  sure 
I  have  dwelt  too  long  upon  this  subject  to  you,  who 
I  am  persuaded  have  a  just  horror  for  a  lie  of  any 
kind,  or  else  I  should  have  a  horror  for  you. 

I  have  often  recommended  to  you  the  good  breed- 
ing and  the  manners  of  a  gentleman,  and  to  my 
great  comfort,  not  without  success,  for  you  are  in 
general  civil  and  well  bred ;  the  article  in  which  you 
fail  the  most  is  at  meals.  You  eat  with  too  much 
avidity,  and  cram  your  mouth  so  full  that  if  you 
were  to  speak  you  must  sputter  the  contents  of  it 
amongst  the  dishes  and  the  company.  You  some- 
times eat  off  of  your  knife,  which  is  never  to  be 
done,  and  sometimes  you  play  with  your  knife,  fork, 
or  spoon,  too,  like  a  boy.  These  are  but  little  faults, 
I  confess,  but  however  are  better  corrected  than 
persevered  in.  In  the  main  it  goes  very  well  and  I 
love  you  mightily.     God  bless  you. 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  293 


XXVII. 
ON  THE   JE  NE   SAIS  QUOI. 

Black-heath,  Aug.  9,  1768. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  I  dare  say  you  have  heard  and 
read  of  the  je  ne  sais  quoi^  both  in  French  and 
English,  for  the  expression  is  now  adopted  into  our 
language ;  but  I  question  whether  you  have  any 
clear  idea  of  it,  and  indeed  it  is  more  easily  felt 
than  defined.  It  is  a  most  inestimable  quality,  and 
adorns  every  other.  I  will  endeavor  to  give  you 
a  general  notion  of  it,  though  I  cannot  an  exact 
one  ;  experience  must  teach  it  you,  and  will  if  you 
attend  to  it.  It  is  in  my  opinion  a  compound  of 
all  the  agreeable  qualities  of  body  and  mind,  in 
which  no  one  of  them  predominates  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  give  exclusion  to  any  other.  It  is  not 
mere  wit,  mere  beauty,  mere  learning,  nor  indeed 
mere  any  one  thing  that  produces  it,  though  they 
all  contribute  something  towards  it.  It  is  owing  to 
this  je  ne  sais  quoi  that  one  takes  a  liking  to  some 
one  particular  person  at  first  rather  than  to  another. 
One  feels  oneself  prepossessed  in  favor  of  that 
person  without  being  enough  acquainted  with  him 
to  judge  of  his  intrinsic  merit  or  talents,  and  one 
finds  oneself  inclined  to  suppose  him  to  have  good 
sense,   good-nature,    and   good-humor.     A   genteel 

1  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything  on  such  a  subject 
where  the  touch  is  lighter,  the  turn  of  expression  happier,  and 
the  distinctions  more  delicately  drawn.  —  Earl  of  Carnar- 
von :  Memoir  of  Chesterfield. 


294    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

address,  graceful  motions,  a  pleasing  elocution,  and 
elegancy  of  style  are  powerful  ingredients  in  this 
compound.  It  is  in  short  an  extract  of  all  the 
"  Graces."  Here  you  will  perhaps  ask  me  to  define 
the  "Graces,"  which  I  can  only  do  by  the  "je  ne 
sais  quoi,"  as  I  can  only  define  the  "je  ne  sais 
quoi  "  by  the  "  Graces."  No  one  person  possesses 
them  all,  but  happy  he  who  possesses  the  most,  and 
wretched  he  who  possesses  none  of  them.  I  can 
much  more  easily  describe  what  their  contraries 
are,  —  as  for  example  a  head  sunk  in  between  the 
shoulders,  feet  turned  inwards  instead  of  outwards, 
the  manner  of  walking  or  rather  waddling  of  a 
mackaw,  so  as  to  make  Mrs.  Dodd  very  justly  call 
you  her  mackaw.  All  these  sort  of  things  are  most 
notorious  insults  upon  the  Graces  and  indeed  upon 
all  good  company.  Do  not  take  into  your  head 
that  these  things  are  trifles  ;  though  they  may  seem 
so  if  singly  and  separately  considered,  yet  when 
considered  aggregately  and  relatively  to  the  great 
and  necessary  art  of  pleasing,  they  are  of  infinite 
consequence.  Socrates,  the  wisest  and  hbnestest 
pagan  that  ever  lived,  thought  the  Graces  of  such 
vast  importance  that  he  always  advised  his  disciples 
to  "  sacrifice  to  them."  From  so  great  an  authority 
I  will  most  earnestly  recommend  to  you  to  sacrifice 
to  them.  Invite,  entreat  supplicate  them  to  ac- 
company you,  in  all  you  say  or  do ;  and  sacrifice 
to  them  every  little  idle  humor  and  laziness.  They 
will  then  be  propitious,  and  accept  and  reward  your 
offerings.  The  principal  object  of  my  few  remain- 
ing years  is  to  make  you  perfect,  if  human  nature 


TO    HIS  GODSON.  295 

could  be  so  ;  and  it  would  make  me  happy  if  you 
would  give  me  reason  to  say  in  time  of  you,  what 
Lucretius  says  of  Memmius  :  — 

"  Quem  tu  Dea  tempore  in  omni, 
Omnibus  ornatum  voluisti  excellere  rebus." 

Turn  out  your  right  foot,  raise  your  head  above 
your  shoulders,  walk  like  a  gentleman ;  if  not  I 
know  not  what  Mrs.  Dodd  intends  to  do  to  you. 
God  bless  thee. 


XXVIII. 

THE   INDECENT  OSTENTATION  OF  VICES. 

Black-heath,  Sept.  3,  1768. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  You  are  now  near  that  age  in 
which  imitation  is  not  only  natural,  but  in  some 
degree  necessary.  You  are  too  young  to  be  able 
to  form  yourself,  and  yet  you  are  of  an  age  when 
you  should  begin  to  be  forming.  Your  greatest 
difficulty  will  be  to  choose  good  models  to  work 
from,  and  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  there  are  at 
least  twenty  very  bad  ones  to  one  good  one,  espe- 
cially amongst  the  youth  of  the  present  times.  Their 
manners  are  illiberal  and  even  their  vices  are  de- 
graded by  their  indecent  ostentation  of  them.  When 
you  come  more  into  the  world,  be  very  cautious 
what  model  you  choose  ;  or  rather  choose  no  one 
singly,  but  pick  and  cull  the  accomplishments  of 
many,  as  Apelles  or  Praxiteles,  I  have  forgot  which, 
did  to  form  his  celebrated  Venus,  —  not  from  any 
one   beauty,  but   by  singling   out   and  uniting  the 


296    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

best  features  of  a  great  many.  When  you  hear  of 
any  young  man,  of  an  universal  good  character, 
observe  him  attentively,  and  in  great  measure  imi- 
tate him;  I  say  in  a  great  measure,  for  no  man 
living  is  so  perfect  as  to  deserve  imitation  in  every 
particular.  When  you  hear  of  another  whose  good 
breeding  and  address  are  generally  applauded,  form 
yourself  upon  his  model  in  those  particulars.  Ill 
examples  are  sometimes  useful  to  deter  from  the 
vices  that  characterize  them.  Horace  tells  us  that 
his  father  trained  him  up  to  virtue  by  pointing 
out  to  him  the  turpitude  of  the  vices  of  several 
individuals. 


XXIX. 

THE  ART  OF   LETTER-WRITING. 

Black-heath,  Sept.  15,  1768. 
Mv  DEAR  Boy,  —  I  send  you  enclosed  a  letter 
from  your  friend  young  Mr.  Chenevix,  which  you 
should  answer  in  about  a  month.  Politeness  is  as 
much  concerned  in  answering  letters  within  a  reason- 
able time  as  it  is  in  returning  a  bow  immediately. 
A  propos  of  letters,  let  us  consider  the  various  kinds 
of  letters,  and  the  general  rules  concerning  them. 
Letters  of  business  must  be  answered  immediately, 
and  are  the  easiest  either  to  write  or  to  answer,  for 
the  subject  is  ready  and  only  requires  great  clear- 
ness and  perspicuity  in  the  treating.  There  must 
be  no  prettinesses,  no  quaintnesses,  no  antitheses, 
nor  even  wit.     Non  est  his  locus.     The  letters  that 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  297 

are  the  hardest  to  write  are  those  that  are  upon  no 
subject  at  all,  and  which  are  like  small  talk  in 
conversation.  They  admit  of  wit  if  you  have  any, 
and  of  agreeable  trifling  or  badinage.  For  as  they 
are  nothing  in  themselves,  their  whole  merit  turns 
upon  their  ornaments ;  but  they  should  seem  easy 
and  natural,  and  not  smell  of  the  lamp,  as  most  of 
the  letters  I  have  seen  printed  do,  and  probably 
because  they  were  wrote  in  the  intention  of  print- 
ing them.  Letters  between  real  intimate  friends 
are  of  course  frequent,  but  then  they  require  no 
care  nor  trouble,  for  there  the  heart  leaves  the  un- 
derstanding little  or  nothing  to  do.  Matter  and 
expression  present  themselves.  There  are  two  other 
sorts  of  letters,  but  both  pretty  much  of  the  same 
nature.  These  are  letters  to  great  men,  your  supe- 
riors, and  lettres  galantes  —  I  do  not  mean  love  let- 
ters —  to  fine  women.  Put  flattery  enough  in 
them  both,  and  they  will  be  sure  to  please.  I  can 
assure  you  that  men,  especially  great  men,  are  not  in 
the  least  behindhand  with  women  in  their  love  of 
flattery.  Whenever  you  write  to  persons  greatly 
your  inferiors,  and  by  way  of  giving  orders,  let  your 
letters  speak  what  I  hope  in  God  you  will  always 
feel,  —  the  utmost  gentleness  and  humanity.  If  you 
happen  to  write  to  your  valet  de  chambre  or  your 
bailiff,  it  is  no  great  trouble  to  say  "  Pray  do  such  a 
thing  ;  "  it  will  be  taken  kindly,  and  your  orders  will 
be  the  better  executed  for  it.  What  good  heart 
would  roughly  exert  the  power  and  superiority 
which  chance  more  than  merit  has  given  him  over 
many  of  his  fellow  creatures  ?     I  pray  God  to  bless 


298     LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

you,  but  remember  at  the  same  time   that  probably 
he  will  only  bless  you  in  proportion  to  your  deserts. 


XXX. 

TREATMENT   OF   SERVANTS. 

Black-heath,  Aug.  29,  1769. 
My  dear  Boy,  —  It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to 
observe  the  indignation  which  you  expressed  at  the 
brutality  of  the  Pacha  you  lately  dined  with  to  his 
servant,  which  I  am  sure  you  are  and  ever  will  be 
incapable  of.  Those  Pachas  seem  to  think  that 
their  servants  and  themselves  are  not  made  of  the 
same  clay,  but  that  God  has  made  by  much  the 
greatest  part  of  mankind  to  be  the  oppressed  and 
abused  slaves  of  the  superior  ranks.  Service  is  a 
mutual  contract,  — the  master  hires  and  pays  his  ser- 
vant, the  servant  is  to  do  his  master's  business ;  but 
each  is  equally  at  liberty  to  be  off  of  the  engage- 
ment upon  due  warning.  Servants  are  full  as  neces- 
sary to  their  masters  as  their  masters  are  to  them, 
and  so  in  truth  is  the  whole  human  species  to  each 
other ;  God  has  connected  them  by  reciprocal  wants 
and  conveniences  which  must  or  at  least  ought  to 
create  that  sentiment  of  universal  benevolence  or 
good -will  which  is  called  humanity.  Consider  were 
you  the  only  living  creature  upon  this  globe  what  a 
wretched,  miserable  being  you  must  be.  Where 
would  you  get  food  or  clothes?  You  are  full  as 
much  obliged  to  the  ploughman  for  your  bread  as 
the   ploughman   is  to  you  for  his  wages.     In  this 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  299 

State  then  of  mutual  and  universal  dependence, 
what  a  monster  of  brutality  and  injustice  must  that 
man  be  who,  though  of  the  highest  rank,  can 
treat  his  fellow  creatures  even  of  the  lowest  with 
insult  and  cruelty  as  if  they  were  of  a  different  and 
inferior  species.  But  this  exhortation  is  not  neces- 
sary to  you,  for  I  thank  God  he  has  given  you  a 
good  and  tender  heart ;  but  I  would  have  your 
benevolence  proceed  equally  from  a  sense  of  your 
duty  both  to  God  and  man  as  from  the  compassion- 
ate sentiments  and  feelings  of  your  heart.  Say  often 
to  yourself,  "  Homo  sum,  nihil  humani  a  me  alienum 
puto."  I  will  encroach  no  longer  upon  Dr.  Dodd's 
province,  who  can  and  will  explain  the  whole  duty 
of  man  to  you  much  better  than  I  can ;  so  God  bless 
you,  my  dear  boy. 

XXXI. 

PRIDE  OF   RANK   AND  BIRTH. 

Black-heath,  Sept.  12,  1769. 
Mv  DEAR  Bov,  —  After  my  death,  Sir  William's, 
and  your  father's,  you  will  be  in  a  situation  that 
would  make  a  fool  proud  and  insolent,  and  a  wise 
man  more  humble  and  obliging,  I  therefore  easily 
judge  of  the  effect  which  it  will  have  upon  you. 
You  will  have  a  pretty  good  estate,  and  a  pretty 
ancient  title.  I  allow  you  to  be  glad  of  both,  but  I 
charge  you  to  be  proud  of  neither  of  those  merely 
fortuitous  advantages,  the  attendants  of  your  birth, 
not  the  rewards  of  any  merit  of  yours.     Your  title 


300    LETTERS  OF  LORD   CHESTERFIELD 

will  enable  you  to  serve  your  country,  your  estate 
to  serve  your  friends,  and  to  realize  your  present 
benevolence  of  heart  into  beneficence  to  your  fellow 
creatures.  The  rabble  —  that  is,  at  least  three  parts  in 
four  of  mankind  —  admire  riches  and  titles  so  much 
that  they  envy  and  consequently  hate  the  possessors 
of  them ;  but  if  (which  too  seldom  happens)  those 
riches  are  attended  by  an  extensive  beneficence, 
and  the  titles  by  an  easy  affability,  the  possessors 
will  then  be  adored.  Take  your  choice  ;  I  am  sure 
you  will  not  hesitate.  There  is  not  in  my  mind  a 
finer  subject  for  ridicule  than  a  man  who  is  proud 
of  his  birth  and  jealous  of  his  rank ;  his  civility  is 
an  insolent  protection,  his  walk  is  stately  and  pro- 
cessional, and  he  calls  his  inferiors  only  "  fellows." 
I  remember  a  silly  lord  of  this  kind  who  one  day, 
when  the  House  was  up,  came  to  the  door  in  Palace 
Yard,  and  finding  none  of  his  servants  there,  asked 
the  people  who  stood  at  the  door,  "  Where  are  my 
fellows ;  "  upon  which  one  of  them  answered  him, 
**  Your  lordship  has  no  fellow  in  the  world."  All 
silly  men  are  not  proud,  but  I  aver  that  all  proud 
men  are  silly  without  exception.  Vanity  is  not 
always  pride,  but  pride  is  always  a  foolish,  ill-grounded 
vanity.  Vanity  that  arises  from  a  consciousness  of 
virtue  and  knowledge  is  a  very  pardonable  vanity, 
but  then  even  that  vanity  should  be  prudently  con- 
cealed. Upon  the  whole,  the  greater  your  rank,  the 
greater  your  fortune  may  be,  the  more  affability, 
complaisance,  and  beneficence  will  be  expected 
from  you,  if  you  would  not  be  hated  or  ridiculous. 
But  I  need  not  I  am  sure  have  treated  this  subject. 


TO  HIS  GODSON.  3OI 

for  your  own  good  sense  and  good  heart  would 
have  suggested  to  you  all  I  have  said,  and  more. 
God  bless  you. 

XXXII. 

THE  SNARES  OF  YOUTH. 

Tuesday,  June  19,  [1770].^ 
My  dear  Boy,  —  From  the  time  I  took  you  under 
my  care  I  loved  you,  because  I  thought  that  I  saw 
in  you  a  good  and  benevolent  heart.  I  then  wished 
that  your  parts  might  be  as  good  ;  and  they  have 
proved  so ;  they  have  not  only  answered  my  hopes 
but  my  most  sanguine  wishes ;  I  esteem,  I  admire 
you,  and  you  are  esteemed  and  admired  by  others 
in  your  now  little  sphere.  But  the  more  I  love  you 
now  the  more  I  dread  the  snares  and  dangers  that 
await  you,  the  next  six  or  seven  years  of  your  life, 
from  ill  company  and  bad  examples.  Should  you 
be  corrupted  by  them  what  a  fall  would  that  be  ! 
You  would  "  fall,  like  setting  stars,  to  rise  no  more." 
When  you  see  young  fellows,  whatever  may  be  their 
rank,  swearing  and  cursing  as  senselessly  as  wickedly, 
.  .  .  drunk,  and  engaged  in  scrapes  and  quarrels, 
shun  them.  Foenum  habent  in  cornu,  longe  fuge. 
You  can  only  get  disgrace  and  misfortunes  by  fre- 
quenting them.     Do  not  think  that  these  exhorta- 

'  In  his  excellent  edition  of  Chesterfield's  Letters  to  his 
Godson,  the  Earl  of  Carnarvon  says  :  —  "  This  letter,  as  far  as 
I  can  decide,  is  the  last  of  the  letters;  and  Tuesday,  June  19, 
as  determined  by  the  chronological  tables  indicates  the  year 
1770.     It  is  a  fitting  close  to  the  series." 


302     LETTERS   OF  LORD    CHESTERFIELD. 

tions  are  the  formal  preachings  of  a  formal  old 
fellow;  on  the  contrary  they  are  the  best  proofs  I 
can  give  you  of  my  tenderness.  I  would  have  you 
lead  a  youth  of  pleasures ;  but  then  for  your  sake  I 
would  have  them  elegant  pleasures  becoming  a  man 
of  sense  and  a  gentleman  ;  they  will  never  sully  nor 
disgrace  your  character.  Keep  the  best  company, 
both  of  men  and  women,  and  make  yourself  an  in- 
teresting figure  in  it.  Have  no  niauvaise  honte, 
which  always  keeps  a  man  out  of  good  company 
and  sinks  him  into  low  and  bad  company.  I  really 
believe  that  these  exhortations  and  dehortations  are 
unnecessary  to  your  good  sense ;  but  however,  the 
danger  is  so  great  from  the  examples  of  the  youth 
of  the  present  times  that  I  shall  frequently  return 
to  the  charge  with  my  preventives.  Mithridates 
(I  think  it  was)  had  used  himself  so  much  to  anti- 
dotes that  he  could  not  bring  it  about  when  he 
wished  to  poison  himself.  What  would  I  not  give 
for  such  an  antidote  to  administer  to  you? 


THE   END. 


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